Baby, Even On Our Worst Nights, I'm Into You
by thedogsingreen
Summary: Abandoned - up for adoption. On their worst nights, they are alone and scared. Elizabeth Adams has found a habit that could cost her everything. Henry McCord is quickly disappearing down a hole he may never be able to escape. Can they learn to trust one another? Will love ever be enough? See content warnings in author's note.
1. Author's Note

**_Teaser:_**

 _On their worst nights, they are alone and scared. Elizabeth Adams has found a habit that could cost her everything. Henry McCord is quickly disappearing down a hole he may never be able to escape. Can they learn to trust one another? Will love ever be enough? CW: Self-harm and alcohol abuse._

* * *

This is an AU where Henry and Elizabeth haven't met. It's set after season 1, and beyond that, I take a lot of liberty with the timeline – moving things around, modifying things, only including the events that serve my plot, etc. Assume everything to the end of season 1 happened as it did on the show, except for the Elizabeth/Henry bits.

The basic premise of the story is: What if Henry and Elizabeth didn't have each other to help them get through everything that happened in season 1?

Helpful bits to know:

Before this story starts, Henry's dad committed suicide like he did on the show. Maureen is still awful.

Elizabeth and Henry don't have kids. They aren't gonna have kids. I don't like writing children.

In this story, Elizabeth is an only child.

I'm making Henry work at DIA and Murphy Station at the same time because it serves my plot. Don't ask questions. It's fine.

I don't know how it works, but I'm changing history a bit and pretending the government stance on LGBT issues in security clearances were the same in 1990 as they were in 2016. So pretend McCarthy wasn't a homophobe? Idk. I realized too far into the story that a character couldn't have gotten a security clearance in the early '90s. So… we're just gonna pretend that's fine.

Content warnings for borderline alcoholism, self-injury, panic attacks, and flashbacks to sexual assault. The discussions of self-injury will occasionally be descriptive and graphic. There will be a fairly graphic description of the sexual assault. I'll give you a warning at the top of the chapter with the sexual assault. I'm not going to warn you about the descriptions of cutting because it's implicit or explicit in just about every chapter in the beginning. There is one chapter that has a really intense description of cutting. I'll warn you before that. Otherwise, consider yourself generally warned.

Their relationship is not going to be healthy immediately, but there will be a happy and healthy ending. Or at least as happy as endings can be.

The purpose of this story is not to provide a how-to guide on overcoming alcohol dependency or self-injury. This is escapist literature meant to indulge the "what if" part of my brain. _Let me reiterate this. Even though I have included a lot more psychology in this story. It is still not a how-to guide. It is one possible story. I have not consulted a professional in the development of this story._

This story is rated M for a reason.

The chapter titles are taken from lines of songs that are relevant. The songs don't necessarily have anything to do with the chapter. Just the specific line. All the songs are in a playlist on Spotify under the same title.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know if you have any suggestions for the story. I particularly love hearing from people who have experienced some of the things I talk about in the story. I mean for this to be a story where you can read and feel understood. I'm also a huge nerd, so please feel free to say you disagree with something in the fic so I can hear other perspectives. Please use your judgment in choosing to read.

Feel free to point out typos. I've used betas on and off, and some of the chapters got more editing than others.

And yeah, there's a Sherlock reference that you'll see starting in the first chapter, although it's not a crossover. #TJLC

If anyone's interested, the inspiration for this story came from my undergraduate senior History thesis where I wrote about victims' compensation following disaster. I wanted to explore in a fic how trauma could be given meaning and people could truly move on.

I got an A on that thesis, graduated, and moved to DC. I started throwing in all of the experiences that I had that I wanted to explore. I apologize if this story feels too much like the kitchen sink. It is – I fully acknowledge that.

* * *

Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Your reviews have shaped and changed the story - making it immeasurably better. You have inspired me and challenged me and bolstered my confidence. Thank you.

If you would like to chat about the story or ideas you have... or if you want to beta ;) please message me! I love hearing from you!


	2. From the day that I met you

Chapter 1: From the day that I met you

* * *

Henry woke up from another nightmare. Sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked his hair. His clothes clung to him as he lay in damp sheets. A knife had been held to his neck. He had been back in the bunker in Bolivia, not knowing if he'd live to see another day. It certainly wasn't the first nightmare he'd had like that, but it still shook him to wake up feeling weak and shaky.

Bolivia had been nearly three months ago, he tried to remind himself. It was over. Done. But that didn't stop the nightmares plaguing him.

He knew there was no way he was getting back to sleep, so he got up and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He chuckled to himself that it hadn't bothered him this much when he had been a fighter pilot and shot down other planes or had other planes shoot at him. Even though that was just as dangerous, for some reason having a knife against your throat was so much more difficult. He couldn't forget it. His body would always remember the fear.

Well, the whiskey could help him forget, like it always did. He checked the clock. Nearly four in the morning. He'd have to be careful to make sure he was sober enough to be at work at eight. He didn't go to work drunk. That was his point of no return. He wanted to work. His mind was focused while he was in the Pentagon or White House. It was when he went home to his tiny apartment that he needed the whiskey.

There had been the one time he had been called back into work late one evening. He had been drunk, but hardly anyone noticed. Henry was used to being drunk, and he no longer acted like a disoriented teenager. The few people who noticed he wasn't sober hadn't been concerned because it was late on a Friday night, and plenty of people had a couple drinks on Friday nights.

They didn't know that he was also drunk on Thursday nights... and Wednesday nights... and Tuesday nights. What was the saying? He only drank on days that ended in a Y.

But his work hadn't suffered, yet. Sure, sometimes he was tired and a bit hung over, but he powered through and made sure no one noticed. Henry McCord was a professional.

The thing that was starting to worry him, though, was his tolerance was starting to increase more than just a regular social drinker. He needed at least four or five drinks to help him sleep, and then he'd wake up and want another drink. He'd have a drink first thing when he got home from work and drink steadily until he passed out.

Henry had gotten in the habit of setting his alarm when he got home. He knew he wouldn't be able to set his alarm later in the evening, but he still had to get up for work. Work was what he was living for. Some mornings he would wake up on the sofa, some on the floor… Occasionally he actually made it to the bed. Regardless, he always got himself up for work.

Alcohol wasn't even relaxing anymore. Or at least, it wasn't as effective as it used to be. Maybe because it used to be an occasional break, his brain was willing to give him time off from his worries. Now that he was always drunk, his brain still had to think. Drinking didn't give him a break anymore. His worries ate at him while he was drunk, and that almost made it worse. His mind couldn't process things rationally. Even if something wouldn't have bothered him while he was sober, the alcohol could turn it into a bigger problem.

But it was the only thing he had. It was the only way he had to try to numb the memories.

* * *

Secretary of State Elizabeth Adams sat in her office on the seventh floor of the State Department. She had two minutes to breathe before her next meeting. It was the first break she had had all day. She pulled her sleeve back from her forearm and looked down towards her elbow. A wave of quiet shame washed over her as she looked at the rows of cuts that marred her inner arm. She wouldn't be able to bare her arms for at least a month. If she were being realistic with herself, she should probably have just sworn off short sleeves permanently.

She hadn't always worn exclusively long sleeves. When Elizabeth first took the Secretary of State job, she had enjoyed getting to wear the strapless ball gowns that came with the job. Or rather, the ball gowns that came with the diplomatic parties that came with the job.

But then Iran had happened. She wouldn't change any of it, of course. She would still go to Iran, even knowing she was going to witness her friends die. It had been necessary, and she would never hesitate to do what was necessary. But it was hard to live with.

The panic attacks had come first. Put her in the hospital, in fact. She remembered Russell Jackson coming into her hospital room with flowers. Hardly anyone even knew she was there. The only person in the room with her was Frank, her bodyguard. Then Russell Jackson had come in with his brusque comments about how if she were unprepared to be at work, she needed to step aside. She knew he was just upset about the Chinese, but he had a point. If she couldn't do the job, she owed it to her country to let someone else take over.

She had grown to love being Secretary of State, though. It was a challenge for her, finally. Bureaucracy and other people's decisions didn't box her in. If she wanted to get something done, she got it done. If she didn't agree with a policy, she didn't sign off on it. It was so much better than her time in Iraq had been. Chief of Station may have been an impressive title, but she did not have the power to overrule orders. She had to go along with whatever she was told to do. And sometimes that cost her…

Some of what she had approved still gave her chills. Not to mention the inherent dangers of being a woman in power in a part of the world that didn't like women in power.

And yet, Iran was still different. She could have died if Fred had not acted so quickly. It haunted her that the slightest weakness within herself could have changed the course of history. The coup could have succeeded if she had stood up before Fred got to her. She had come so close to dying. The only reason she hadn't was because Fred Cole took her place.

The lesson she learned from the experience was that she needed to be at the top of her game at all times. Day or night. On the clock or off.

When she had gone back to her Foggy Bottom townhouse after being released from the hospital and cleaning up her mess at work, Russell Jackson had come back to make a second, more tactful, appeal. He gave her the name of a therapist, but she was still too nervous to hear half of what he was saying.

He thought she was weak. The only reason he would suggest seeing a shrink was if he thought she had completely lost it. Well, she had been through worse, and she would get through this. A little determination and a lot of grit could go a long way.

She was no stranger to death. Fred and Javani weren't even as close to her as her parents had been. If she could manage to get through it then, she could now. She would persevere, no matter what it took. About that, she was determined.

* * *

When she woke up with yet another panic attack, a few days after coming home from Iran and winding up in the hospital, her determination was tested. There was no way she could calm herself down. She couldn't breathe more than a gasp every now and then. Her throat was dry and felt as if it would crack at any second. _Water._ Hadn't that been what the nurse had forced down her throat at the hospital? It couldn't hurt. She decided to give it a try.

When Elizabeth made her way downstairs to the kitchen to get the water, her limbs had been very shaky. A combination of adrenaline and lack of oxygen, she guessed. She hadn't bothered turning on the light before she reached for the cabinet, and she had accidentally knocked something off... a knife. Oh, right. That evening, she had cut up a banana to put on top of the cereal she ate for dinner.

If the press only knew that the Secretary of State ate cereal for dinner every night because she couldn't cook...

The knife fell from the counter and cut her leg, scaring her more than anything. She jumped back and stared at her leg below her shorts. Blood swelled up and spilled, but not so much to be concerning. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as the faint line of the cut turned red with escaped blood. Time seemed to stand still as it distracted her. She sat down and leaned back, breathing more steadily. The endorphins from the pain soothed the pulsing adrenaline in her body.

Before long, she realized she was calm. Calmer than she'd been since she'd returned from Iran. She got up and picked up the knife from the floor, where it had fallen. She put it in the sink and went off in search of something to bandage her leg.

Once she got the first aid kit from the bathroom, she thought of the stark difference between first aid and her own job as Secretary. She could fix the cut on her leg. A bandage wrapped tightly would keep it clean until it healed. But international diplomacy could not be wrapped up so neatly.

Over the next few days after accidentally cutting her leg, Elizabeth found herself intentionally pressing against her bandaged leg when she was upset at work. When she felt on the verge of panic, the physical sensation of pain helped her focus on what was actually happening in the present instead of what happened in Iran.

After a few more days, though, pressing on the cut on her leg didn't hurt anymore. The cut was healing, but her panic over Iran was not. She started noticing her panic building as the days went by. It would ebb if she took a few deep breaths, but it never completely went away, and each time it came back stronger.

A few nights later, she had another bad nightmare. Elizabeth could feel her sheets soaked with her own sweat. Again, her breath was stolen from her. She was tired of these attacks. They were the same every time. Tears, shortness of breath, erratic, pounding heartbeat, and shaking, trembling limbs… She was tired of being scared. She was tired of being exhausted at work. Soon, her work would start to suffer if she couldn't get enough sleep, and she wouldn't allow her work to falter. Not only did she have a job to do, she had an image to maintain.

She got up and went to her bathroom, finding a small pair of beauty scissors. If it had worked once, maybe it would work again…

It was scary to cut herself in some ways. Her brain was wired to keep her safe, not injure herself. At first, all she could do was scratch herself. She had no desire to bleed to death, and she didn't know how much blood would come if she got braver and cut herself deeper.

The scratches helped. They hurt a lot, probably more than the cut on her leg had hurt. But she wanted to see blood. Somehow it wasn't real – her pain wasn't as tangible – if there weren't blood. She pushed the scissors into her skin harder, finally drawing blood. A momentary panic came over her as she saw the first big bead of blood form and begin to drip off her thigh. She realized she hadn't thought to grab anything to stem the flow. The only thing within reach was a white hand towel hanging on the wall. It was plush and thick. In a rush, she held it to the cut, scared she had cut too deep. She checked it every few seconds, hoping the bleeding had stopped. After less than a minute, it had, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

When she looked at the hand towel, she realized that there really had not been that much blood at all. Her mind had simply panicked at the first sight of blood, as her brain was evolved to do. Now that she had survived, though, she felt a wave of serenity come over her. Everything was okay. She hadn't died. She was still alive.

* * *

That had been weeks ago, more than three months, now. Cutting had become part of Elizabeth's routine. She normally cut herself on her stomach because it was easier to hide. But she liked cutting on her arm because she liked being able to look at her cuts during the day. It gave her some satisfaction to know that she could do that to herself. She had a secret. She was strong - no one knew how strong. No one else had that much control over their own pain. As long as she could cut, she was invincible. Or at least emotionally.

She learned to keep alcohol swabs and gauze around to keep things sterile. Used hand towels were not the way to go if she wanted to keep from getting an infection. Beauty scissors weren't good either, for that matter. She still kept the towel to lay down in case she dripped blood on the carpet or something, but it was not a very sanitary way to keep her cuts clean.

She had no desire to get an infection. She kept a first aid kit in her bathroom at work and her bathroom at home. The only difference was her first aid kit also held straight razor blades that she bought in packs by the hundred. They were small and could be thrown away after each use. After she cut, she could dispose of the blade just like she had gotten rid of her uncomfortable feelings and intrusive thoughts.

She had even started carrying her "tools," as she called them, in her purse. That way, wherever she was when something happened, she could always deal with it. She always had options. In Iran, she hadn't had a choice about what happened to her. Iraqi security forces had taken her to their bunker, but they could have just as easily been taking her to her execution. For the first couple weeks after she had gotten back, things had felt almost the same – like she had no choice about anything. She was shuffled from one funeral to another and press conference to briefing to situation room to press conference again. It was too much, but if she had said anything, everyone would have thought that Iran broke her – that she was done.

Elizabeth wasn't giving up. She had a duty to her country. The president had asked her to serve, and she wouldn't let him down. And now she had a way to do that. She could take her tools with her anywhere and feel invincible because she knew she had a way to stay in control, and no one had to know. The blades couldn't even be picked up by the metal detectors she had to pass every day. It was her secret – something no one else could touch.

* * *

At DIA, Henry saw his boss approach his desk.

"What can I do for you, Mike?"

"Hey, Henry. State is asking for an after action briefing on the Bolivia thing."

Henry started turning to pull a file from his desk drawer. "Yeah, I've got the report we wrote. You want me to send it over?"

"They want an in person briefing. You can give them a copy of the report when you're there. You don't mind doing the briefing, do you?"

"No. No, that's fine. I don't mind." Henry pulled the briefing out and turned in his desk chair to face his boss again. "Whom am I briefing, exactly?"

"The Secretary and her senior staff. I'll send you the details by email." Mike was already halfway out of his office, on his way to the next thing.

"Yeah, no problem. I'm on it." Henry called after him.

* * *

Elizabeth walked into her conference room to find Nadine, Matt, Jay, and Daisy already prepared for the briefing.

"Hey everyone, thanks for coming. I felt like this was really necessary given the ongoing situation in South America. I asked Mike Stamford over at DIA to send someone to give us a wrap-up on the Bolivia situation."

Nadine raised her eyebrows and smiled. Elizabeth noticed and gave her a questioning look.

"Is _that_ the guy Mike Stamford sent over?" Nadine gestured through the door to the man speaking with Blake.

Elizabeth looked around and saw what Nadine was talking about. The man was extremely good-looking. He was familiar. She had seen him somewhere before…

Daisy leaned over to Nadine. "I think we might need to turn this into a two-day briefing. I think I'm gonna have a lot of questions."

"Aren't women supposed to be against objectification?" Matt quipped as the women in the room gazed at their briefer like they wanted to have him for dinner.

"I'm not objectifying him... I don't doubt he is one-hundred percent man." Daisy spoke to Matt while keeping her eyes locked on their guest.

Elizabeth quieted the room with a glance as the man walked into the room.

"Madam Secretary, I'm Henry McCord from DIA."

As they shook hands, the connection clicked in Elizabeth's mind. This was the man she had seen infiltrate the compound. She had been safe in the situation room, and this man had been on the ground. He was the one who had infiltrated the compound and nearly gotten himself decapitated.

A few months ago, she would have found that extremely sexy. Now, though, as she was making sure her sleeves were pulled down completely, she thought anyone who would put himself in harm's way intentionally had to have something wrong with him. Clearly, he was good at his job, but still… All the skill and expertise in the world couldn't protect him from a knife to the throat.

Bolivia had been a risky operation, she knew. Risks were not acceptable. The only strength she recognized was keeping things under control at all times. Once a situation got as fluid as Bolivia had been, there was no way to keep those risks under control. Henry didn't have to go into the compound by himself. He could have stayed outside – in fact he had been asked to stay outside. He had chosen to put himself in a situation where he had very little control.

Much as Elizabeth had done in Iraq, and the memories of it still gave her nightmares.


	3. Yes, Jesus loves you, but I don't

Chapter 2: Yes, Jesus loves you, but I don't

* * *

Elizabeth sat in her office at 8pm on a Wednesday. She was staring at the South American Aid Agreement trying to think of some angle to get human rights inspectors into Colombia. There had to be something they could work with. Some bit of leverage...

She had an idea, but she wanted to run it by Jay. First, she needed to check with a subject matter expert to see if her idea was even possible. She glanced around her desk, trying to think of whom to call. She saw Henry McCord's card peeking out from under a stack of papers.

He'd do. He had seemed to know enough about South America to answer her question.

She dialed his number and listened to it ring several times. She was just about to hang up when he answered.

"Yeah... 'm here." Henry slurred.

Elizabeth sat back, surprised. She knew what drunken people sounded like, and Henry McCord sounded drunk.

"Henry, this is Secretary Adams. I wanted your opinion on religious extremism in South America, but I take it you're indisposed."

"No, no. 'm good. Really. South'merica. Shitty place."

Elizabeth could hear bottles clank in the background.

"Okay, Henry. You're drunk. Get some sleep. I can talk to someone else. I would think you would behave more professionally than being drunk on a Wednesday, and for heaven's sake, don't answer the phone drunk. You should know better."

"I'm not drunk. It's your fault for callin'."

Elizabeth hung up the phone. She didn't have time for that. She had never really believed in the stereotype of the government worker, but Henry was not inspiring confidence. She had half a mind to tell Stamford, but she reasoned that it was technically evening hours, so Henry was on his own clock. He could do whatever he wanted, even if it was ridiculously unprofessional.

* * *

"Madam Secretary, I've got Henry McCord to see you." Blake said, first thing Thursday morning.

"Ah. Yes. Send him in. This should be good." Elizabeth crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair with her pen poised in hand.

"Madam Secretary, good morning." Henry came in with his head bowed slightly.

"Good morning, Dr. McCord. I hope you're well."

Henry heard the formality in her tone, but knew she wasn't giving him any honor. She was mocking him. And he probably deserved it.

"I know you're working on getting the situation in Colombia stabilized. I brought some reports over..."

"I appreciate your effort, but that wasn't necessary." She spoke shortly.

Again, her clipped tone conveyed more than her words.

Keeping his head down, Henry spoke quietly, obviously embarrassed. "I also wanted to apologize for our conversation last night."

Elizabeth waited.

Henry didn't say anything, waiting for her to lash into him.

When he said nothing, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Okay. Let's hear your apology."

That was not what Henry was expecting. His mind scrambled to put something together. "Um... I'm sorry I couldn't answer your questions, and I'm sorry I was so rude. That was inappropriate. I had a friend's birthday... It won't happen again. I recognize you needed the information last night. I can get you any information you need..." He trailed off.

"Dr. McCord, you work in a position where you can be called into work at a moment's notice. People's lives depend on it. When I called you, you were insubordinate and argumentative. That is beyond rude. You should be ashamed of yourself. This better not happen again. Our citizens rely on us for security and stability. I do not appreciate your happy-go-lucky attitude to our mission integrity. You may have been off the clock, but you should have been able to direct me to someone who was on call if you weren't willing to answer my question. You need to get that drinking under control before it costs you your job."

Elizabeth's chest heaved slightly with her emotion, the only betrayal of her authoritative distance.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you know nothing about the situation. I told you it was a friend's birthday..."

"That's a lie, and we both know it." Her internal lie detector from her CIA days was still intact.

"Fine," he said. "I think we're done here." Henry picked up his coat and left with loud footsteps.

Elizabeth didn't react at all. She simply watched him exit her office, one eyebrow slightly raised and lips pursed slightly. She had almost liked Henry McCord. Her hope had been that he would accept her criticism and show her that he took his job seriously. During the briefing, she had enjoyed his perspective. But he had certainly not impressed her just then. He was a military brat and probably only took things seriously if it was coming from someone who could command him. Elizabeth had encountered that type before. She didn't have a military rank, and she was a woman. Military men didn't always take too kindly to being reprimanded by a woman with no military experience.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. She had work to do. She gathered the reports Henry had left on her desk and began to read them. Colombia wasn't going to fix itself.

* * *

Henry McCord sat in his office in the Pentagon. He had really bungled everything. Secretary Adams had every right to report him, not just to Stamford. She could ruin his career. It wouldn't take much to get him labeled an alcoholic. Not that he was, but that was what it would look like.

Secretary Adams was right. His little problem was starting to affect his work. That was the line. He had promised himself that he wouldn't compromise his work. That was the only purpose he had left, really. After Bolivia, the things he used to enjoy doing just weren't as fun. He used to go running and working out. He used to spend hours reading philosophy criticism. There were so many things he used to enjoy... even the occasional ballroom dance class.

But after Bolivia, none of that seemed to matter. And now all his free time was taken up with the whiskey. Now all that mattered was the color and texture of his alcohol. And that only mattered for the first drink, until his mind was sufficiently dulled.

Henry liked the way the ice cubes would clink in the glass when dropped from the right height. The weight of the glass in his hand. Those were real. It was a little ritual. It was dignified.

Last night had not been dignified. He had embarrassed himself and Secretary Adams. He deserved every harsh word she had said and more.

Henry wasn't going to give up, though. He could still salvage this if he got on it immediately. He'd make sure they both had time to cool off, but he would set this right. Work was all he had right now, and if that was taken away from him, too... He didn't want to think about that.

* * *

"...thanks, Jay. Send that off to Russell Jackson's office for approval, then let's set up a call with Venezuela and Colombia."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Jay was leaving, Elizabeth's phone rang. She picked it up. "Yeah?"

"Ma'am, I've got Henry McCord for you."

"Blake, tell him I'm too busy." She did not have the energy to deal with a man who didn't respect her.

"Yes, ma'a-"

She cut of her assistant's words. "Actually, no, put him through."

Elizabeth was still basking in the success of getting Colombia to agree to the human rights treaty, and she was spoiling for another fight. It wasn't like her to get involved in personnel issues, but it was a tiny bit fun to have the upper hand and moral superiority in this situation.

She heard the phone click.

"Dr. McCord." She greeted, coolly.

"Madam Secretary, I want to apologize again. For both last night and this morning. My behavior was inexcusable. I'm sorry."

That was not what Elizabeth was expecting. She was expecting more bravado. Given her earlier characterization of him, she thought he would come in shouting about her interfering in his business and not understanding how DoD operated. But he wasn't giving her sass at all. She thought she almost heard sadness in his voice. That couldn't be right.

She realized she had paused for a beat too long, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Well at least we have something we can agree on."

Henry accepted the jab.

"I didn't want you thinking I didn't respect you or your office because I do have great respect for you. It's my fault I let a personal situation affect my work."

Elizabeth prepared another sharp comment but held it back. She could hear real sincerity in his voice. Henry McCord was genuinely contrite that his work had been affected. Her CIA-trained internal lie detector was telling her he was telling the truth. It wasn't just truth in his voice. There was genuine distress. She was surprised.

"It's... it's fine. Don't worry about it. Just don't do it again." She almost sighed, disappointed in not being able to pick a fight.

"What?" Henry was shocked that she didn't want to give him another speech.

"It's fine. Thank you for apologizing."

"Of course... I..."

Tired of the conversation, she didn't let him finish. "Henry, I accept your apology. Just make sure it doesn't happen again. Have a good day."

Elizabeth hung up the phone. Their conversation was over. She knew what Henry was. He wasn't a disrespectful military stooge. He was out of control. Alcohol got the better of him last night, and from the sound of his voice, it probably wasn't the first time. She wasn't mad at him exactly, but she couldn't relate to him. He was the type of person who chose to lose control. She couldn't understand that - voluntarily giving up power, when things were so tenuous already.

Part of her had wanted to have a fight with him. She had been on edge, constantly ready for a fight since she got home from Iran. That wasn't Henry's fault, though. That was just another example of why she wasn't cut out to have friends – not outside of work, at least. She'd just get mad at them when they disappointed her, which they always would. She was sure of it.

No. She and Henry McCord would never get on. There was no point prolonging that conversation.


	4. All I remember is what I wish I could

Chapter 3: All I remember is what I wish I could forget

* * *

A few days after Henry McCord's briefing, Daisy walked into Elizabeth's office.

"Ma'am, Jay and I were thinking that we might be able to get Israel to deploy ground troops to fight HS if we can help save the artifacts HS has been destroying. Do you think that handsome guy from DIA would come back and talk to us about it?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I assume you mean Henry McCord."

Daisy didn't seem put off. "Yeah. He's quite popular in the office." She lowered her eyebrows conspiratorially.

"We aren't getting that poor guy over here all the way from the Pentagon just so you can ogle him."

"And see, that's not what we're doing," Daisy assured her boss. "We have a legitimate question. And he has religious expertise."

Becoming thoughtful, Elizabeth asked, "You really think we could get Israel to commit troops?"

"If we save these artifacts, yeah."

"I'll tell DIA to send someone over, and if they send Henry McCord, that's up to them." She held up her hands, refusing to take responsibility for getting Henry back in the office.

"How many medieval artifact experts can they have, anyway?" Daisy smiled and jumped up to leave.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes again, good-naturedly. Her staff behaved like teenagers sometimes, but they knew what they were doing. If they had fun while getting their job done, she wouldn't stop them.

* * *

"Henry?" Stamford strode into Henry's office in the Pentagon.

"Yeah, Mike?" Henry glanced up from his desk to see his boss.

"How do you feel about going back over to State and doing another briefing? I just got off the phone with the Secretary's office."

Henry furrowed his brows. "She requested me again?"

He had anticipated never interacting with the Secretary again. He doubted she would want to mess with him. She had clearly written him off. If he were honest with himself, he understood why she didn't trust him. He hadn't exactly done much to inspire her confidence.

"Well, not you specifically. She just wants a briefing on HS, and you're the best subject matter expert I've got on hand at the moment."

"Oh." He felt his stomach drop. Had he been hoping Secretary Adams had wanted him to come back? He wasn't sure, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Thoughts like that weren't productive.

"Anyway, if you could talk about the artifacts being destroyed. They want to know about the religious significance and see if they can pull anything actionable from that."

"I'll get something prepared. When do they want me over there?"

"Before the end of the day."

"I love how easygoing they are over there," Henry said sarcastically.

* * *

Elizabeth watched Henry enter and set up for the briefing without comment. She had nothing in particular to say to him. She could certainly see what her staff saw in him, though. He was a very handsome man. He even seemed enticingly intellectual. It was a good combination, military muscles and cultural interests.

For some reason, guys in uniform always piqued her interest. Even in a plain suit, no one would be able to forget Henry was military. He just had the look that made straight women everywhere weak in the knees.

She ran a CIA once-over on him. Military haircut, even though he was no longer on active duty. Clean shaven. Military walk, likely engrained in muscle memory. Well-fitted, dark suit, but not the same one he had on the other day. Ironed hems and shirt, polished shoes and cufflinks, pocket square to match his tie, which was knotted in a full Windsor. Tie and lapels both medium width so they wouldn't draw attention. Mild cologne. Clean hands and well trimmed nails. No wedding ring. No tan lines on the ring finger. Nametag attached perfectly straight. Bright eyes and fresh face without bags under his eyes. She would have expected his eyes to be bloodshot and saggy if he made getting drunk a habit. Placid smile and polite greeting for anyone who walked by. He extended his hand to everyone – women and men alike. He wasn't too rushed for a proper greeting, which was something she still had to admonish her staff about.

Elizabeth had known plenty of men who wouldn't shake a woman's hand. Some thought it was awkward, some thought it was rude… Others assumed the women around them were only secretaries…

She chuckled a bit to herself. To be fair… she was a Secretary… albeit a different kind.

Henry's appearance was sharp, for sure. It got her blood pumping in spite of herself. She had him pegged in her mind as erratic and unprofessional, but he made quite an effort to put up a good appearance. Either she had misjudged him, or his good show was only skin deep. Regardless though, he looked good. He looked like the type of guy she could be interested in.

Not that Elizabeth was really in the market. She hadn't even tried dating in years. She briefly allowed her mind to wander into the land of what ifs. She had always enjoyed guys who could challenge her. Henry was tough, and his background in religion could only complement her more scientific interest. She had never had any particular use for religion. It had never supported her when she needed comfort. But she could see the practical need people had for it. There was a reason she was taking the time to consult someone about the religious significance of HS, after all.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in Henry. It was that he was all wrong. He was a great guy, but he liked danger, if his trip to Bolivia were any indication. And he also liked drinking more than Elizabeth was comfortable with. Not that she didn't occasionally have a few drinks, but she never got flat out drunk the way Henry had been on the phone. Both of those things told her that Henry liked to play things free and loose. He clearly didn't have firm rules about respecting authority. That just wouldn't work for her. None of that spelled out a guy she could get along with, even if he was handsome and intelligent.

No. Elizabeth looked back down at her paperwork. Henry wouldn't be good for her. She was happy with her life the way it was. And if she were going to let a man in her life, he was going to be a lot more stable than Henry McCord.

Henry took his cues from the Secretary and said nothing regarding their previous interactions. He greeted her politely and waited for the rest of her staff to get settled in the conference room. He could tell the women on the staff were still gossiping about him. It wasn't a new thing to him. When he was a young pilot, he had learned not to go after women who spent their time whispering to each other about how handsome he was. He found that most of them had more fun showing him off to their friends than actually talking to him. Not that it wasn't fun to have women find him attractive… it just wouldn't make for any kind of long term relationship.

The only woman in the room who hadn't whispered about him was the Secretary. She was probably just too professional. It did make him pause, though. He appreciated that she requested briefings when she needed them. Plenty of people thought they already had everything figured out, but Secretary Adams kept an open mind.

Henry shook himself as he started the briefing. He couldn't get bogged down in feelings for the Secretary. It wasn't simple to date someone on the presidential cabinet, and he had already bungled any chance he had with her. He might as well give up before he got emotionally involved. He had shown her disrespect both professionally and personally, and it was a bit arrogant to think that she might be willing to ignore that.

* * *

"…So destroying these artifacts is really a tactic of iconoclasm and cultural erasure. HS has been sending us videos of the artifacts being destroyed separately, before the rest of the building is blown up. This isn't about economics. This isn't about being angry and wanting to blow things up. Sure, some of that is wrapped up in it, but the motivation is much more sinister."

Henry was in the middle of his briefing and was trying to explain the significance of destroying artifacts during a war. His audience didn't seem to be understanding him. He tried to make it more concrete.

"You know why the Egyptians were unsuccessful in enslaving the Hebrews? In the Bible, I mean."

Everyone stared at him blankly until a guy with dark, curly hair spoke up. Henry thought the man had introduced himself as Matt, but he couldn't remember for sure. "Weren't the Egyptians pretty successful at enslaving the Hebrews?"

"Sure, they enslaved them, but they didn't take away their religion or cultural identity. The Jews are still known as a collective group. They didn't become integrated with the Egyptians. They escaped captivity because they still had a unifying belief in Yahweh. Their family structures and way of life weren't erased like HS is trying to do to everyone who disagrees with them."

Matt still looked confused.

"Think of this as instead of simply killing the women of a village, they make sure everyone knows the women were raped before being killed. It's a show of power. It's a symbol intended to demoralize a culture. They're showing that they understand the significance of culture – the value people have for their families and traditions – and they want to destroy and replace it. They don't just want to hurt their victims. They want them to beg for the violence to end and then accept a new government. It's not enough to kill the folks. They want to torture the folks to the point that they give up all hope on ever seeing their families again. HS wants to break them down so that they'll do whatever they're told. It's psychological terrorism."

Listening to Henry's words, Elizabeth was beginning to feel a little light-headed. The room was spinning slightly, and her ears weren't quite working properly. She tried to slip out unobtrusively, but it was difficult to do when she was the highest-ranking person in the room. She could see Henry catch her eye. She thought she saw him squint at her, but she wasn't concerned about him. Elizabeth just needed to get out of there. If she had some space to breathe, she'd be fine.

In the sanctuary of her office, Elizabeth sat on her sofa with her head in her hands. She took deep breaths and tried to keep herself from panicking. There was nothing to be scared of. Henry had been speaking about artifacts being destroyed. He hadn't even said anything graphic. It was his comments about rape being intended to demoralize the victim... All of it, really. She couldn't even quite remember exactly what he had said. It didn't make sense that she was upset about words she couldn't remember.

But she was. Her breathing wasn't getting any easier. There was nothing else for it. Part of her wanted to try harder to keep from cutting, but it was a habit now. She couldn't risk having a panic attack at work. She had to get ahead of it. A long, agonizing deliberation over whether or not to cut would not be an efficient use of time. If she were quick, she might be able to slip back in the briefing before her absence became noteworthy.

She went into her bathroom and picked up the small box from under the sink. Today, she'd have to focus on her stomach. She didn't want to have to take off her clothes to cut her legs, and her arms were nearly full. This needed to be quick. If she did the cuts on her stomach, she could just lift up her shirt, and no one would be any the wiser.

* * *

"Madam Secretary, I wanted to drop off these reports for you before I left," Henry said as he wandered into Elizabeth's office as everyone was milling around after his briefing. The Secretary hadn't come back after she left, and he assumed she had gotten tied up with another situation. He just hoped he hadn't managed to offend her again somehow.

"Hmm?" She glanced around from her position reclining on the sofa. She may have dozed off for a few moments. If cutting had nothing else going for it, at least it relaxed her. And she could use the sleep. Between work and her nightmares, she had a hard time getting enough sleep to keep going with her relentless schedule.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Henry set his papers down on the coffee table and approached the Secretary slowly. Her eyes looked glazed, and her body seemed somehow softer… more relaxed. He had noticed the second he met her that she kept a very rigid posture. But not anymore. She looked like she had fallen limply onto her sofa. One leg was dangling and resting awkwardly on the floor. She didn't look like she even noticed her awkward position.

Her eyes were unfocused, and she looked past Henry. "Fine. Fine," she said rather defensively, sitting up. "It's late. Go home, McCord."

"I just wanted to let you know DIA got some intel in the last few minutes that there was another mosque destroyed…"

She tried to brush past the comment to get Henry out of her office. "Seriously, they've been blowing up mosques everyday. This is nothing new."

"Ma'am, I also thought you'd like to know we've identified some of the HS leaders in the logistics cell…"

"I don't have time right now. Tell Nadine about it if you're so worried." She gestured in the general direction of the door.

"Yes, ma'am." Henry knew when he was dismissed. He had no idea why the Secretary was not interested in his information, but he wasn't about to stay to find out.

With that, he backed out of the room. Right before the door closed, he thought he saw the Secretary look around nervously and clutch her side.

Henry wasn't about to stick his nose in Elizabeth Adams's way again. She clearly didn't want to talk to him. For someone who had less than a week ago been yelling at him about taking his job seriously… he had just not expected her to be one to hit a wall and give up. But he couldn't tell that anything had happened. She hadn't gotten a call… He would have heard if there had been a major world catastrophe. Her assistant was mingling with everyone in the hall, completely unaware.

She had just acted so much differently than he had seen her before. A growing part of him was worried. She almost acted like she was strung out on some drug, but that couldn't be it. Although, to be fair, political appointees could get away with just about anything. She wouldn't be the first. Still, it was just so inconsistent with what he knew about her. She wouldn't be one to do drugs.

He knew he should mind his own business. That woman was not to be messed with, and she could burn him very easily if she wanted to. But something seemed fishy. He wanted to know what had made Secretary Adams change so drastically in less than an hour. He wanted to at least know that she was okay. Even if he knew they had no future romantically, he still cared about her on some level.

Henry knew it would wasn't his job to go prying into the Secretary's personal life. He wondered, though, how many people were too intimidated by her title to remember that she was still just as human as everyone else. She had bad days, too.

Buttoning up his jacket before heading into the brisk evening air outside the State Department, he pondered the number of disagreements people got into because they managed to offend each other with carelessness. Elizabeth had been completely careless, he wasn't about to disagree with that, but he wondered what might have caused it. Maybe it was because he had a crush on her, but he had enough sense to know that she was reacting to something other than just him. Other people might have taken her reaction personally and left her alone, thinking she was being mean because she was a mean person.

If his religious education had taught him nothing else, he knew that there was a motivation behind everything, and very few people were mean or evil for the sake of it. No, Elizabeth wasn't a mean person, and she hadn't been rude to him just because she could. He knew it probably wasn't about him at all. If she were a child, he would have thought she were ill or had a tooth coming in. She was an adult, but adults still had bad days just like children.

He knew he'd probably never find out what had been bothering her that night, but he wouldn't take it personally. He offered a silent hope that she felt better soon. That was probably all he could do.

* * *

The next morning, Blake met her at the elevator. "Madam Secretary, I've got a note here from Henry McCord. He called first thing this morning and said to tell you that he appreciated the chance to come brief us on HS. He said to be sure to let him know if you need anything or if he can help."

"Thanks, Blake," Elizabeth said as she strode in the office, a little worse for wear. She was trying not to show that walking stretched bits of skin that were just barely healing up from the night before. She hadn't been able to avoid cutting again when she had gone home.

Of course Henry called to check on her. That's what that message was about, and she knew it. God, now she would have to apologize to him for how she had acted. She had complained about him being unprofessional, and then she had gone and done the same damn thing. What a great example of steady leadership she was, she scoffed at herself.

As she pulled files out of her briefcase, she thought that maybe she had misjudged Henry. He hadn't called her out on anything. He hadn't bothered her or embarrassed her. Just called to ask if there was anything he could do. He wasn't even pushy. That was kind of him. As much as she loved DC, she recognized that finding people who were genuinely kind even when it didn't benefit them was a gift.

Especially given his reaction, she felt like a heel for having treated him the way she did the night before. He hadn't called her on her lack of attention and unceremoniously booting him from her office. The image of Henry she had in her head would have called her on her hypocrisy. But he hadn't. She must have misjudged him somehow. There had to be more to Henry McCord than she had first realized.

She knew she should probably apologize. He deserved an apology and an explanation. The explanation, he certainly wasn't going to get. The apology would be awkward enough. Well, maybe she could apologize if she had something else to say, too. She really could use his help on saving the artifacts. He had convinced her it was worth the effort. Of course, asking for his help would mean seeing more of him. For some reason, though, that didn't seem like such a sacrifice anymore. If they could stop mucking up their every encounter, they might actually be able to enjoy each other's company.


	5. We ain't got much and that's just enough

Chapter 4: We ain't got much, but that's just enough

* * *

"Ma'am, President Haddad says he won't sign over power to Arkoun."

Elizabeth was sitting at her desk, typing away on her keyboard, when Nadine stuck her head in and made that announcement.

"But we just negotiated that..." She looked over her glasses at her chief of staff and almost whined. She was weary of negotiating with the Algerians, but she thought they had finally found something that would work. Haddad, the de facto dictator had just _barely_ agreed to give over power to Arkoun, who they were confident would install true democracy. One, hopefully, that would keep its citizens from joining HS.

"I know, I know. But he says he can do a better job. He also called Arkoun a terrorist."

"Of course he did." She sighed. "Well, get Ambassador Curtis in here. We need to talk this out again. Haddad won't listen to anyone but Curtis."

Nadine shifted uncomfortably. "Well, that's the thing..."

Elizabeth held up a hand to stop her. "Nadine, don't give me that look. You only give me that look when you've got something really inconvenient to say."

Seeing how upset the Secretary was likely to be, Nadine rushed through what she had to say, the words nearly tumbling over each other. "He says he's quitting. He refuses to go back to Algeria."

Elizabeth paused, absorbing the statement. "He's quitting? Is he upset about the new dental plan?" Her deadly calm voice didn't reveal her intense fury. "Get him here. I don't care how you do it."

Sometimes Elizabeth wished she had worked in the CIA during the Cold War. Slipping a bag over someone's head in the middle of the night sounded really enticing. Especially at times like this.

"Blake!"

The assistant scampered into her office. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Get Stamford to send Henry McCord over here for a few days, if he can spare him. And call a staff meeting in half an hour."

* * *

"Okay, everyone. I want you all working on backchannels. Dr. McCord, thank you for agreeing to work with us on this, you are in charge of working on the artifacts. I still want to try to get those out of this intact. Let me know what you need."

"Thank you," everyone said in unison.

Elizabeth turned to Nadine. "I want you to prepare a flight for me. If Curtis refuses to go talk to Haddad, I guess I will."

"You sure, ma'am? The situation on the ground- "

"-is fine for now. I'm not going to walk into the HS camp. Just going to the palace."

"Yes, ma'am." Nadine knew not to obstruct her boss when she was on a mission.

Henry heard the two women talking and raised his eyebrows. He knew just as well as Nadine that the situation in Algeria was quickly getting out of hand. Elizabeth was taking a risk, even if she had denied it to Nadine. Maybe Elizabeth was trying to minimize the danger of the situation to make herself feel better, but Henry got the sense from her steely gaze that she knew exactly what she was doing. He raised his eyebrows. It was impressive. Elizabeth could command a lot of quiet authority when she wanted to.

It was not unsexy.

Henry coughed slightly and went back to reading the papers in front of him.

* * *

"Nadine, DIA has reports that Arkoun was just hanged by Haddad and the Algerian military." Henry rushed into Nadine's office before catching the look that was on her face.

Henry watched Nadine nod, looking away from her computer, but keeping her head exactly where it was. Somehow, just by moving her eyes, she had conveyed more shock and outrage than if she had yelled.

"It was in front of the Secretary, to put on a show for her. She's on her way back." Nadine took a breath. She was worried this would affect the Secretary like Iran had. She shook herself. The Secretary was a professional, and it wasn't her job to look after her boss. "Excuse me, Dr. McCord. I need to get Daisy to issue a statement."

"Of course," he said as he moved out of her way.

Henry let out a breath. He felt sorry for the Secretary having to watch that. He just hoped she would make it back all right. It didn't sound like Haddad wanted to hurt her. It sounded like he just wanted to intimidate her, but still. Henry couldn't stand the idea of the Secretary getting hurt.

* * *

"Ma'am, we're so glad to have you back." Nadine alone met Elizabeth as she exited the elevator.

"Thank you, Nadine."

Elizabeth thought about thanking Nadine for keeping everyone from ambushing her, as she knew they had probably wanted to do. But she thought better of it. She needed to show that she was ready to get back to work. She didn't need coddling. Of course, the barely formed scabs on her leg might beg to differ, but no one needed to know about that. That was just for her.

"Where is everyone?"

"In the conference room. We haven't had any luck with backchannels. It seems that Haddad isn't interested in talking to anyone right now. He's got the military keeping everything locked down."

"Okay. Let's see what we can do." Elizabeth was determined to get back to work. That was the only way to keep the image of democratic hope swinging lifeless from a noose.

* * *

"Ma'am, I've got Ambassador Curtis in the conference room." Nadine stuck her head in Elizabeth's office.

"Great. Get the senior staff and anyone with a suit on to go in there. Don't let them greet him. Tell them not to react to anything. Just go in and sit with blank expressions. Oh, and take all of their name badges."

"Going for a show of force?" Nadine smirked.

Elizabeth mirrored the smirk. "Maybe."

After waiting long enough for Nadine to get a sufficient crowd assembled. Elizabeth put on her highest heeled pumps and a deep crimson lipstick. She strode in the conference with an air of dominance. She got straight to the point, still standing slightly too close to the former ambassador.

"Ambassador Curtis, tell us what you can about Haddad's relationship with his cabinet."

"Madam Secretary, I do not appreciate getting dragged into an interrogation." He said haughtily.

"Mr. Ambassador, you have chosen to abandon your duty. I think the least you can do for us is to give us information seeing as how we so graciously didn't ship you back to Algeria."

"Fine." He looked around at the impressive-looking gathering. He was in the Foreign Service. Or at least he had been until a few days ago. He wasn't strong like Elizabeth Adams. When things got hard, he quit. Because he had spent all his time in Algeria, he didn't know all of the staff at the Foggy Bottom office. He didn't realize he was sitting in a room full of randomly selected human mannequins.

Henry sat in the back, not really having any business in the meeting. But he had been wearing a suit, so Nadine had pulled him in the room per the Secretary's order.

"The military runs the country. Haddad runs the military. If anyone on the cabinet disagreed, he had the military kill them. It's your basic authoritarian regime."

Elizabeth sat against the table, slightly easing her harsh presence, hoping she could coax Curtis into giving her something actionable. "Come on, give me something I can work with. There must be someone who is willing to take control of this country."

"Well, sure. I'm sure you could find someone. But no one is going to go against Haddad because he'd have the military kill them. Anyone you put in there is going to have to be seen as legitimate by the military."

"I thought you said Haddad and the military were one and the same."

"Well, for the most part. But the military guys are actually good at their jobs. Haddad, not so much. He wants to do something, then he talks to the military, and he gets the sense knocked in him."

Elizabeth stood still. An idea was forming in her head.

"Thank you, Ambassador."

With that, she brushed out of the room.

Nadine followed her back to her office.

"Nadine, get my plane ready. I'm going back to Algeria." She had a plan to go make a last-ditch appeal to General Cherat, the head of the Algerian military. She wasn't sure how she would convince him to take control of the country, but she would have quite a while in a plane to figure that out.

"Ma'am, Diplomatic Security really isn't going to like that."

"I don't care. We can't let Algeria fall apart on our watch." Elizabeth was adamant.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get into it."

"Thanks."

Turning to enter her office, Elizabeth saw Henry approaching her. "Is there something I can do for you, Dr. McCord?"

"Henry, please. And I just wanted to let you know that communications about the artifacts have broken down. The military is preparing for action, and they're not willing to worry about the artifacts anymore."

"Right. Well, at least we tried. Thanks, Henry." She gave him a genuine smile of gratitude. She hadn't seen him take a single break since starting on the project.

They both turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" She ran after Henry. "Henry, you were talking to the military?"

He looked confused. "Yeah, I had clearance. We didn't discuss anything-"

"No. No. That's fine. Whom did you talk to?"

"General Cherat." His face still registered his confusion with her line of questioning.

"Yes!" She clenched her fists in victory. "Thank you!" She shook her head in relief and disbelief. There was a _way._ "I could kiss you!" Elizabeth ran back to her office to prepare for her meeting with Cherat.

The second she got back to her desk, she stopped cold. What had just come out her mouth? Had she just said she wanted to kiss Henry? Oh. That probably should not have been said. Maybe he wouldn't think anything of it, she reasoned.

Henry stood with his head cocked to one side. He had no idea what had just happened. But the Secretary had actually looked like she was about to kiss him. Her smile had been a mile wide. And what a smile it was. He felt like it was so bright, he wouldn't be able to see anything else for the rest of the day. She looked so alive – so animated – when she had an idea. He realized that that was what she looked like when she was doing her job. She did what no one else could, and it was incredibly powerful. Through this whole thing, she had been nothing but calm, intelligent, and resourceful. She didn't give up. Even after seeing Arkoun hanged, she stayed on-task, focused, and collected.

The Secretary was a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

"General Cherat, Algeria needs you to step up. Your country needs your leadership. You know what kind of leader Haddad is. He isn't willing to fight for your culture. He won't even work with us to save the artifacts HS keeps destroying. I know you are willing to do this for your country. I need you to assume the presidency."

After Elizabeth said that, everything was a blur. Haddad had burst in demanding the soldiers kill Cherat. Cherat told the soldiers to arrest Haddad.

The future of the country came down to the decisions of two dozen 20 year-olds with guns.

In the shuffle, Elizabeth's DS agents pushed her up against a wall. She wasn't really out of the way, but it was the best they could do. She was fine. At least that was what she told herself.

Cherat was in power. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. _Everything is fine._

She kept repeating the line over and over in her head as a mantra.

* * *

When she returned to Foggy Bottom, she felt like a part of her was still held up against the wall in Algeria. People greeted her, but she hardly noticed.

"Good job, ma'am." Nadine said before leaving for the evening.

Elizabeth sat with her never-ending supply of paperwork. She didn't have anything to do at her empty townhouse, so she might as well stay at the office.

Without anywhere to be, either, Henry was one of the last ones left in the building. He watched the Secretary stare blankly at her desk, pen in hand. She wasn't writing anything.

"Madam Secretary?" He knocked lightly on her open door.

She looked up. "Henry, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to let you know that we've deployed a joint op to get the artifacts back. HS just left them when they had to flee their compound."

"Good. Good. Glad that worked out." She meant her words, but she couldn't hide the fatigue in her voice.

"I'll be heading back to DIA tomorrow unless you need anything else. I'll get you a final report on the op."

"Thanks. I'll look for the report. I can't think of anything else to have you do around here. But if you ever get tired of DIA, I might be able to put in a good word for you over here."

"I appreciate that, ma'am." Henry grinned.

Elizabeth noticed his smile. It was genuine, and she couldn't remember the last time she had been able to casually joke with friends. It was nice. "It's after 8pm, and you no longer work for me. Call me Elizabeth."

Henry looked down at his shoes. "I was really impressed that you managed to get Cherat to both save the artifacts and save Algeria." This woman had managed to confuse and intrigue him as well as thoroughly impress him. If he were with his Marine buddies, they would have called her 'badass.' He knew she had nearly gotten herself shot. It was more than slightly hot that she was tough as hell while also being feminine. It was hot that she didn't need anyone to protect her from the world. She dug right in. Yet, part of Henry did want to protect her, if only to show off for her.

"Thank you." She tried unsuccessfully to keep from blushing.

"Would you let me buy you dinner tomorrow night?" He blurted out.

Elizabeth opened her mouth. That was not what she had been expecting. She swallowed and looked at her hands in her lap. Before she realized what was happening, she heard words coming out of her mouth.

"That'd be okay."

It sounded flat, even to Elizabeth. She hadn't really meant for it to come off that way. She was just surprised. Part of her was still embarrassed she had suggested kissing Henry earlier. He didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

Henry could feel the lack of warmth in her words. But she had accepted. That was worth something. He honestly had been expecting her to turn him down. She may just have agreed to thank him for his help on the artifacts.

In any case, it was set now.

"Great. I'd pick you up, but I assume your detail wouldn't approve."

She smiled. "No, they probably wouldn't. Why don't you just meet me here around 7?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you."

Henry left, and Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. What had she just done? Did she just agree to go on a date with Henry? Did she really like him? She wasn't ready to get involved with someone, was she? She didn't feel ready. She felt nervous. But then again… He had been nothing but professional the last few days. He had helped her find the solution to installing Cherat. …She could at least have dinner with him. If it didn't go well, it was just dinner between colleagues, after all.

Colleagues had dinner together after installing a foreign regime, right?


	6. You're circling the atmosphere

Chapter 5: You're circling the atmosphere, unsure if I'll disappear

* * *

Elizabeth checked her phone as it buzzed.

-I'm outside-

-Great. I'll be down in a minute-

Henry responded within seconds.

-I'll just hang here and pretend your agents aren't making fun of me-

She looked in the mirror one more time as she finished brushing her hair. She and Henry were going to a play at the Kennedy Center, and while she wasn't necessarily trying to impress Henry with her looks, she certainly didn't want him thinking she was shabby.

Their first dinner had gone well. Being outside of work and with Henry was a good combination. She was able to relax without the stresses of the office, but they could still talk shop, which was just about the only thing she knew. She didn't have much of a life that didn't involve being Secretary of State, and from what she could tell, Henry didn't have much of a life outside the DIA. Their conversation came easier the more time they spent together. It was _fun_. Fun wasn't really a word she had used a whole lot in the last few years, but being with Henry was _fun_. Even if they spent most of their time talking about international politics.

"You're looking very handsome today." She smiled as she let Henry help her into the SUV.

"Thank you. You look particularly beautiful tonight. Your dress is fantastic."

Henry had taken some time to adjust to how dating worked when one member of the couple was Secretary of State. He had been raised a gentleman, and a gentleman always picked up his date. …Except now his date had cars and bodyguards of her own. So opening doors for her when they were out in public wasn't much of a thing. DS had to make sure her entry and exit from buildings was secure.

Fairly quickly, though, Henry had found the little things he could do to show her that he was attentive. He helped her in and out of the SUV. He held her purse or drink when she needed an extra hand. People frequently recognized her and wanted to shake hands, so she was always looking for a place to set her things. Henry quietly kept her hands free and got out of the way while she took photos.

It wasn't something Elizabeth was used to – having someone with her on her days off. Blake took care of that sort of thing when she was at formal events, but when she was off the clock, she just managed on her own. Sometimes her DS agents would help her carry things, but it wasn't really their job, and in some cases it actually made it harder for them to protect her.

At first, Elizabeth had been a little offended that Henry wanted to do things for her. She thought he wanted to coddle her – as if she couldn't manage to get out of a car herself. With Henry, it wasn't like that, though. He knew she could manage. He wanted to give her a sense of style. His gaze was sincere, not condescending. He wanted her to know that she was worth his attention. It was his way of showing her he cared about her.

She began to welcome the attention. So many people at work only cared about her when they needed something or because of her position. Henry just wanted to demonstrate that he respected her.

"You have the tickets?" Elizabeth asked, once they were halfway downtown.

Henry's laugh crinkled his eyes. "Of course. This was my turn to plan."

"Just asking…" she trailed off, thinking of the time the previous week they had gone to a Nationals game and had to wait around at will call getting new tickets printed because Henry had left them on the counter at her house.

"You thought about where you want to go to dinner after?" Henry asked. He loved matinees because if they went to dinner after the show, they could talk about the show all through dinner.

"Um… No. You want to try that new Italian place on P Street by Dupont Circle?"

"The underground one? Hasn't that been there for a while?"

"I mean, new within the last ten years…" Elizabeth trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

Henry took her hand in his. He loved that Elizabeth thought something was new if it had opened in the last decade. She dealt with rapidly changing political situations, but she still thought a restaurant that had been there for multiple years was "new."

Henry tilted his head towards his date. "You know, I think that place actually opened in the late '90s…"

Elizabeth laughed at his teasing. She knew he wasn't being hard on her. She found it just as funny that she couldn't keep track of the restaurants in DC. They seemed to come and go so fast.

"Well if it wasn't here when I moved to DC in the '90s, then it's new."

"Okay. Okay. Fine. We'll go to the _new_ Italian place."

While adjusting to life with DS agents around had been enough of a bear as it was, Henry was glad that Elizabeth was allowed to spontaneously go to restaurants. Sure, an agent went ahead of them to make sure nothing suspicious was going on, but it didn't require the kind of advanced notice the presidential detail needed. Elizabeth's detail was relatively small, and they had a lot of freedom of movement, even if they had to let the agents go with them everywhere they went.

When they got to the Kennedy Center and the play started, Henry had looked around a bit at the other people in the audience. The might of Washington society was sitting with him. The men were at the tops of their careers, and they had equally powerful partners sitting beside them. There were of course some single people, but for the most part, it seemed to be a gathering of Washington power couples. Plenty of the men had an arm draped around their date. Henry thought it made for a good look.

He felt like a teenager trying to decide if he should wrap his arm around Elizabeth. He could try to yawn and make it look natural. But that move was so overplayed. He didn't want to seem corny.

After the curtains closed for a scene change, Henry tried to rest his arm on the back of Elizabeth's chair. He felt her cringe at the contact. It was small, but he could feel it. He heard her take a quick breath, clearly startled. There wasn't a good way he could take his arm back without making a scene, and he was at least glad that she didn't shove his arm away.

 _Damn_. That wasn't how he was hoping it would go. At the next reasonable time, he readjusted himself and pulled his arm back.

Maybe some other time. He'd wait until Elizabeth initiated contact. If he were in her position, he probably wouldn't want to be touched by him, either. He had hoped he had managed to hide his bigger flaws from Elizabeth, but maybe she could sense that there was something wrong with him.

Elizabeth's mind was whirring. She hadn't meant to jump. She didn't mean to embarrass Henry. It was dark in the theater, and she wasn't expecting his arm to be there. It didn't scare her... It surprised her, and she wasn't sure she was ready for it. They had taken the physical side of their relationship exceptionally slowly. She hadn't initiated any physical contact, and Henry hadn't pushed her. She appreciated that he was being a gentleman about it. There was something about physical contact that struck Elizabeth as dangerous. Not because she was scared of Henry, but because she was scared of herself. At times, her attraction to Henry seemed almost overwhelming. If she let Henry touch her, would she be able to stop herself from falling in love with him?

That thought sounded so dramatic. Elizabeth wasn't the type of person to surrender herself to soul-consuming love. Her job had to come first. She was nothing if not practical. It was just good sense to keep Henry at arm's length. They could still enjoy each other's company and have nice dates. And he would never have to learn her secrets if she protected him from her rougher edges. She wanted him to like her, and letting him get too close would only show him things that no one would ever want to see.

* * *

They had fallen into an easy rhythm in the month or so since Algeria. Dinner dates, picnics, lunchtime walks through the park… They were starting to see each other more days than not. At first, their rigorous schedules had gotten in the way. Normally, it took weeks to get on the Secretary of State's schedule, and she always knew she could be called in at the drop of a hat. There was never a true "off the clock." Henry was also plenty occupied with his job at the DIA. As more time passed, though, they found it easier to make time for each other. Elizabeth just assumed she would have a date on Saturday nights. Henry assumed he would take long lunch breaks three days a week to give him time to bring Elizabeth some lunch. She had a particular fondness for Chinese takeout.

Henry had discovered that Elizabeth loved to go dancing, even if she wasn't particularly gifted. He was a good enough dancer to lead her through anything, and she could follow him well enough. With a little more practice, he'd have her taking dips and spins like a pro.

Elizabeth thrilled in the romance of weekend picnics by the river and dancing in the evenings. It was exhilarating, getting out of the house and doing something active. Henry was such fun company for her. He had a different perspective, but their experiences overlapped enough that they could talk about nearly anything with each other, and they always had something to add.

Not that everything was completely settled, of course. Sometimes Elizabeth felt like there were two Henrys – the one who was extremely attentive to her and answered her texts immediately, and the one who ignored her without comment. There were times he just didn't respond, and he gave no reason for it. She never asked, and he never even acknowledged it. The next time they saw each other, things would just continue on as if four text messages and a phone call had not gone unanswered.

Henry may not have brought it up, but he did get Elizabeth's texts. He just couldn't tell her that he was too drunk to type back to her. Sometimes he was already out cold. The first time it happened, Henry had been expecting Elizabeth to ask him about it. She hadn't. She had seemed a little quieter, but she never asked why he had ignored her.

For her part, Elizabeth didn't want to force Henry to speak to her if he were tired of her. She was determined not to behave like a lost puppy. If Henry weren't invested in their relationship, she wouldn't be upset. She just wouldn't let him get close enough to hurt her.

There were also times when Elizabeth wouldn't answer Henry right away. Sometimes it was her job that got in the way, and sometimes she was too busy cutting to care what Henry had to say.

In some ways, both of them were leading double lives. Their time together was great. It was relaxing, intellectually stimulating, and romantic. Their jobs were still as challenging and satisfying, but now they had something to do in their free time. But they hung on desperately to their vices.

In the morning, Henry could be the best analyst and the best boyfriend, but later that night, he would be swimming in whiskey. He couldn't let Elizabeth know about that. She barely had enough time for him as it was. When she didn't respond to him for a day or two, he always thought that maybe she had finally come to her senses and realized that she was too good for him. That did nothing to make him feel any better, and he would usually get wasted when Elizabeth ignored him.

It was getting harder for Henry to hide his drinking. A couple times, he came into work with a noticeable hangover. The first time it happened, Stamford had teased him about it and let him be. The second time, Stamford had needed a last minute report written, and Henry had been sluggish and slow to complete it.

"Henry, don't let your hangovers affect your work again. I need to be able to count on you." Stamford had said.

He knew he'd have to be more careful.

* * *

"So this is actually the enigma?"

"Yeah. Well, one of them, anyway."

"That is so amazing. All of the work that went into this thing."

"I'm so glad I wasn't the analyst in charge of figuring it out."

"I'm sure it wasn't just one poor guy…"

Henry and Elizabeth stood hunched over the glass looking at the WWII-era code machine. They had taken their Saturday to go visit the National Cryptologic Museum. Hardly anyone knew it existed, so it was easy to stop by without drawing too much attention. Frank, the head of Elizabeth's security detail, thought this was one of their more inspired date options. While technically the museum was open to the public, it was on campus at the NSA, so he didn't have to worry about any major catastrophe befalling the Secretary. It was Nationals Park and the Kennedy Center that posed challenges to protect.

Frank could tell that the Secretary was much more lively now that she was dating Henry. She made impromptu runs to bakeries to make sure she had food on hand for when Henry stopped by to pick her up for dates. Frank was glad she was enjoying herself. He saw her more than most people, and she had always been very private. Since Iran though, she had almost been reclusive. He'd escort her from home to work and work to home, and that was just about it. She'd make a trip to the grocery store every week to stock up on cereal and frozen dinners, but that was just about the only interesting thing she had done since Iran. Henry had definitely changed that.

* * *

The next Friday night, they were sitting on opposite side of Elizabeth's sofa, facing each other. Their feet were not quite touching, but it was a close thing. Henry had come over with a bag of groceries to cook her dinner. She was getting rather spoiled to Henry's excellent cooking. Homemade meals were such an improvement over her TV dinners.

"They're sautéing the garlic too long. It'll get bitter." Elizabeth ranted at the TV in front of them.

"Exactly. You never break the garlic." Henry glanced over at her. For someone who was abysmal at cooking – something he had realized when he asked her to help him prepare their dinner – she could condescendingly critique cooking shows like a pro.

It was fun – to unleash every hurtful thought they had about the TV show. They were both kind and professional all day, and sometimes it was nice to just let out that suppressed bit of rudeness. In the privacy of Elizabeth's living room, they could team up on the unsuspecting TV host, and no one was any the wiser. They both relaxed at the ability to unleash creative insults at the TV.

When the show was over, it was nearly 9pm, but Henry wasn't ready to go home. He didn't want to go back to his tiny little apartment alone. They hadn't slept over with each other, and tonight was not the night to try to impose himself... But he also wasn't ready to call an end to the evening.

If Henry didn't still need three or four shots to get himself to sleep, he might have been more willing to sleep over. Elizabeth couldn't know about that habit. He never drank in front of her, even when she had a glass of wine on their dates, he stuck with soda or water. She had gotten so mad at him the one time she had called him while he was drunk. No – he couldn't risk her thinking he was a drunk. And it was kind of old school romantic to take things slowly, anyway. He liked feeling like he was treating Elizabeth well. Sure, part of him would love to sleep with her immediately, but another part of him felt like he was demonstrating that he actually cared about her by not pushing her into sleeping with him. Most nights, he was happy to kiss the back of her hand and depart before 10pm. But tonight, he just wanted a little more time with her. What could they do...? He needed an idea...

Henry exclaimed suddenly. "You want to go bowling?"

Elizabeth turned her head in surprise. She had a crooked smile on her face that was cute, endearing, and completely demonstrated her feelings all at once.

"Bowling? Are we twelve?"

"Well, you certainly look young, but maybe not that young..."

She laughed at Henry's comeback.

"Oh, what the hell? Let's go bowling! I haven't done anything spontaneously random in ages."

"I'll let Frank know and I'll tell him he can pick the place. That'll smooth things over with him, I hope." He knew the last minute plan to go to a public place wouldn't be popular with the DS agents.

"Alright. I'll go get some socks and change into something more appropriate for bowling." She was still in her blouse and slacks from work, having discarded her blazer the second she walked in the door.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me you were good at bowling?" Henry complained.

Elizabeth grinned in victory after her third strike in a row. "What, you only wanted to come because you thought you could show off?"

"Well I've got to impress you somehow..."

He rolled his ball straight into the gutter.

"I appreciate the effort, babe. But I think I've got this bowling thing covered. I just thought you'd be better competition." She winked at him before preparing to take her turn. When she reached to release the ball, he sleeve rode up her arm, and Henry thought he could see scabs on her arm... It looked like cuts. He only saw it for a second, and he wasn't prepared for it, but it looked like she had several cuts one after the other along her inner arm.

She whooped and spun around as her ball knocked over all the pins but one. She'd easily make the spare.

Henry had known guys in the military who had cuts like that on their arms. But Elizabeth wouldn't be into that sort of thing, would she? No... She was the Secretary of State. She had her life figured out, unlike himself. He must have been mistaken. He had only seen it for less than a second. Maybe she had been scratched by a neighbor's cat. That made sense. At least it made more sense than Elizabeth Adams, the most amazing woman he'd ever met, intentionally hurting herself.

He watched her make the spare, and then readied himself to take his turn. He wasn't focused on the game anymore, though. Elizabeth laughed good-naturedly as his ball rolled in the gutter yet again, but he couldn't get his mind off of what he had seen on her arm. He was rationalizing it, but even as he pushed the thought away, it was very unsettling.


	7. I care not for your poetry

Chapter 6: I care not for your poetry

* * *

The next week saw two more lunch dates and a Saturday night out to the movies. At first, Henry had agonized over which movie to suggest. Would Elizabeth like a comedy? Maybe sci fi? Pretty soon, though, he realized Elizabeth didn't really care about the movie. Sure, she'd pay attention, but what she was really after was the popcorn. Only one of the local theaters offered different flavors of gourmet popcorn, so Henry started taking her there whenever they went for movies, and he didn't worry about which film was being shown.

Henry hadn't asked Elizabeth about what he had thought were cuts on her arm. He reasoned that it was her business, and he didn't want to risk doing anything to make her mad. He didn't want to mess up the budding relationship they had going. At that moment, it was the only thing outside of work that made him happy.

The situation with HS and Disah was getting more worrisome by the day. He had been pulled part time into a working group to focus on Disah. They had intelligence that HS might have acquired some radiological material. Henry didn't know too much about radioactive weapons, but some of the people in Murphy Station did, and he could tell they were worried. Henry was there to contribute regional expertise and general intelligence analysis. He had worked at DIA, Marine intelligence, and NSA for the better part of thirty years, but even he had never come across anything as volatile as HS with radioactive material.

* * *

Blake walked in Elizabeth's open door. She could tell what he had to say before he even opened his mouth.

"The president wants me again?"

Blake nodded.

"Okay. I'm going."

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She had been expecting to get called to the Sit Room about the op they were running in Pakistan. They had decided to send an agent into Pakistan to receive critical intel. They had a potential HS defector. He said he was willing to provide information about the radiological material. Elizabeth had counseled the president to risk sending in a live agent. She had been in the room when Mimi Jacobs accepted the job. Hopefully Jacobs would be able to gather the intel they so desperately needed about Jibral Disah.

A small voice in Elizabeth's head was still worried that it was dangerous to send in a live team. The situation was so fluid. But the potential for learning Disah's location, not to mention the location of the uranium, was worth it.

* * *

"What have I missed?" Elizabeth asked as she walked into the Sit Room.

"Jacobs is just about to receive the package." It was Henry who spoke up.

 _Oh, right. He's in Murphy Station._

Elizabeth had almost forgotten that Henry was working on this op, too. He wasn't the contact point for Murphy station because he was only on loan from DIA, and most of the time, she only interacted with Russell and the president.

It was a little awkward standing next to Henry in a room full of people. At least all of the people had their attention directed at the screen in front of them. No one was looking at Elizabeth and Henry. No one saw the awkward half-smiles they gave each other. What was there to say when you were about to watch a top-secret covert op together?

They hadn't kept their relationship completely hidden. So few people actually seemed to care. The gossip rags in DC had fun photographing them together at local restaurants, but there wasn't anything scandalous, so after the first couple weeks, even that had died down. Russell hadn't mentioned anything to Elizabeth, and Stamford hadn't mentioned anything to Henry. Well, Stamford had winked at him one morning from over a newspaper that Henry knew had run a picture of he and Elizabeth walking in the park together. DC might run on gossip, but at work, everyone was professional and on the job. The Situation Room was hardly the place for anyone to ask them about their relationship.

Elizabeth tore her eyes off of Henry and back to the screen where she could see Agent Jacobs ready to escort the defector into U.S. custody. "Great. And what information is this guy supposed to hav-…"

At that moment, the man approaching Mimi Jacobs opened his vest to reveal explosives. A spark flashed in his eyes as he stared directly at the Americans standing in front of him, ready to welcome him. The man stood there, explosives exposed, and closed his eyes. He tilted his face towards the sky and seemed to release a breath.

"Dammit!" The president exclaimed. The bottom of his fist connected with the table in a loud thump, only seconds before a similar sound came from the speakers broadcasting

An explosion went off. They could hear the sound of crunching metal and screaming before the sound went dead. The camera they had been watching went black, only to be replaced by an aerial image from a drone in the sky. They could see a fire cloud fizzling out and turning to black smoke. Unlike the image before, this one was silent. Elizabeth wasn't sure if the drone didn't have audio capabilities or if there was no longer and noise being made on the ground. She couldn't see anyone moving.

The Situation Room was also silent and still. No one wanted to accept what had just happened.

Elizabeth couldn't breathe. Her chest felt paralyzed, unable to draw in oxygen. The inside of her lungs burned with the need for air.

She had convinced the president to send Jacobs… Mimi… in. Mimi had children. She had a husband. People would miss her... people who still thought she was coming back. At that moment, only the people in the Situation Room knew she was dead. Would her husband be able to feel it? Or would he be taken off guard when uniformed officers came to his door?

The edges of Elizabeth's vision started to get fuzzy. She knew she had to leave before anyone realized she wasn't okay. There was no way she would let them see her having a panic attack. She was the Secretary of State. She was supposed to be in charge of diplomacy for an entire country. There was not room for her to lose control. Elizabeth had fought too long and too hard to earn respect. One stupid panic attack would not ruin that.

She hastily left the room, hoping she hadn't drawn too much attention. If she could only get to a bathroom… She had a razor blade stashed in her purse. There was a little black bag with alcohol wipes, bandages, and a couple razor blades. If she could just cut… She could go clean up her mess in the Sit Room afterward. The president would want to have words with her. He wouldn't blame her… even though it was her fault. She'd have to convince him it wasn't his fault. It would take energy and tact, and at the moment she wasn't prepared to have that conversation.

Once outside the Situation Room, she looked around the hall for a bathroom. The panic was still clawing at her chest. She needed to find some privacy fast. Elizabeth could keep the panic at bay just long enough to find a place to cut.

 _Where is the stupid bathroom?_

"Elizabeth?"

She whipped around.

Henry. Henry had followed her. _Dammit._

"Um… I'm just gonna pop in the ladies'…" She tried to make a smooth exit, but she still didn't know where the restroom was.

"Are you okay?" He approached her and laid a gentle hand on her upper arm. He could feel her trembling slightly. Her pulse was racing. Henry wanted to take her into his arms and soothe her. He knew she had suggested the op. But after she had shrugged off his earlier physical contact, he didn't want to force himself on her. Especially not when she was upset. Still, he wished she'd let him help. It would at least make himself feel better.

 _He's just trying to be comforting_. Elizabeth tried to keep her panic pushed down. Henry was probably just trying to be helpful, but he made her feel trapped. Really, her panic made her feel trapped. Henry was just keeping her from cutting – from alleviating her panic.

She was still looking around for a restroom when she managed to respond. "Yeah."

Henry could tell she wasn't breathing quite right, and her eyes were darting everywhere. He wished she would at least look him in the eye. He thought he could get her to connect with him if she would just look at him and acknowledge that he wanted to help.

"Elizabeth. Calm down. That wasn't your fault. She wanted to go."

 _Calm down? Calm down? How the hell can anyone be calm after that?_

Her voice came out breathy and rushed. "I just need a minute, Henry. I'm fine."

"Let me take you home. You need a break. We'll regroup later. There's nothing we can do right now. The generals need to prepare courses of action, so we've got some time before the president will need us in there. Let's go back to your place, and you can relax for a few minutes." Henry tried to give her a gentle suggestion. Maybe if he could get her out of the White House, she would be able to calm down. He ran his hands up and down her shoulders, trying to release the tension he could see her carrying.

It was too much, and Elizabeth jerked back from his hands. "I'm fine, Henry! Just give me some space! I don't need you smothering me!"

Henry held his palms up, backing away a step. "Okay. Okay." He swallowed, trying not to meet her emotional response. "If you need to talk, I'm here. Call me if you need anything. Really."

It would have been better for Elizabeth if he had yelled at her. At least then she would have an excuse to yell back and release the pent up emotion trying to claw its way like an animal from her chest. Her racing thoughts consumed her, and his calm tone was not relieving any of the pressure building in her chest. She wanted to yell at him and explain that Mimi's death was her fault. Mimi's children lost their mother because of a recommendation that she made.

Yelling at Henry would only make things worse, Elizabeth knew. She couldn't lose Henry over this. She probably deserved to lose him over it… But he didn't deserve her being emotional and difficult. He had done nothing but offer her support. She tried to keep her tone even and controlled.

"Thank you. I just need some time to process. See you later."

She left him before he could say anything else. She knew she had been rude, but at least she hadn't yelled at him.

After turning down the first hall she passed, only wanting to be out of Henry's sight, she finally found the bathroom.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as she made it into the sanctuary of the bathroom, and locked herself in a stall. She took the little black bag out of her purse. Cutting in the White House. She wondered how many people had done that before. Probably some interns. A member of the cabinet? Probably not.

Oh well, today could be a first.

* * *

Henry stood dumbfounded. She was clearly upset, but she didn't want him to help. He had thought they had grown fairly close over the last few weeks. He wanted her to let him help. There was no way he could show her he cared about her if she wouldn't let him in.

Maybe he really shouldn't have been surprised. He hadn't had a serious girlfriend in nearly twenty years. His father had joked that no woman would want to stay with him because he didn't know any practically useful skills. Elizabeth probably wasn't looking for a burly carpenter-type. But there was clearly something she was looking for that he wasn't giving her. Or maybe it wasn't even his fault. Maybe he was just attracted to women who didn't want him. That would be a great cosmic joke.

If Elizabeth was allowed to take some time to herself, so could he, Henry reasoned. She didn't need him; he didn't need her. He had ways of dealing with things on his own.

He'd worked with Mimi for weeks now, day in and day out. Seeing her blown to bits was not reassuring. HS would get the upper hand if they didn't catch Disah soon. But like he had told Elizabeth, there was nothing to be done at the moment. They'd come back in the morning ready to strike back. That gave Henry plenty of time for his own brand of relaxation.

Henry rationalized that, unlike Elizabeth, at least he didn't hide the fact that he couldn't cope with everything. He didn't convince himself that he was fine. He knew he couldn't deal his father's death and everything that happened in Bolivia. Elizabeth could go on living in a fantasyland if she wanted, but he was actually facing reality. He couldn't handle it any better than she could, but at least he acknowledged it.


	8. Make this discord finally harmonize

Chapter 7: How do we make this discord finally harmonize?

* * *

Sitting at home that night, Elizabeth couldn't help but replay the day over and over in her head. Mimi had looked so confident. Steely. Professional. Just seconds before…

Before.

Suddenly, what she had done earlier at the White House was not enough. She needed to cut again. That would make four times in one day. She cut first thing in the morning to prepare herself for work and steady her nerves. She had been worried about the op that morning, so she had also cut once she got to work. Then at the White House…

Four times a day was probably not good. She normally tried to keep it to morning and night. If she indulged herself too much, she'd run out of places to cut.

She glanced at her phone. Henry _had_ said to call him if she needed anything.

It couldn't hurt. If talking to Henry didn't make her feel better, she could always cut later. She probably owed him an apology for being so weird earlier. He had just been trying to help, and she had completely shut him down.

She unlocked the phone and tapped Henry's name. It was in her favorites list.

The phone rang several times before she heard it picked up.

"Heeey, 'liz'beth."

Henry was drunk. Elizabeth could tell immediately. _Great._

Her tone betrayed her annoyance. "Henry, I'll talk to you later. You're drunk again." She started to hang up but then heard Henry reply, so she put the phone back to her ear.

"You sai' you wanted time to yourself. Don' get all mad at me for 'dis."

"And why do you think I wanted time to myself, huh? Because sometimes I call you when you're so wasted you can't talk. And sometimes you don't even answer my calls at all. If you want me to trust you, you have to show up."

"You can' expect me to wait 'round for you t'call. If I wan' a drink or two, I'm not gonna ask you permiss- pemrish- permsion."

"No. You don't need to ask for my permission. But I also don't need to put up-…"

Elizabeth heard the line go dead. She had been about to tell Henry that their relationship was over. She did not want to spend her time wondering if he would be drunk when she called. It was just more painful that way. At least when she was single, she didn't have to deal with other people being unpredictable. When she was on her own, she had a way of keeping herself in check, and she didn't have to worry about anyone interfering with that. There were plenty of reasons not to get into a serious relationship with someone who drank as much as Henry seemed to. As upset as she was just then, she was ready to end the whole relationship over the phone. He deserved to wake up the next morning with a hangover and no girlfriend.

But the jerk had hung up on her.

She got up, blood pumping. She'd go over to his apartment and tell him exactly how she felt about his behavior. A fight would make her feel better. She'd held back on him earlier, but if he were going to treat her with such disregard, she wouldn't hesitate to unleash on him. It was his fault for thinking that she would want to have a relationship with a guy who constantly disappeared to get drunk.

If she did it now, while Henry was still drunk, she wouldn't lose her nerve. It would be easier to break up with him while he was almost incoherent. Really, it would probably be for the best, she thought. She had come so close to letting Henry in – to trusting him with her insecurities. She had called him because she wanted to cut. That was when she was at her most vulnerable, and she had nearly shared that with him. It was better to end the relationship now so she didn't get too deep into it. If Henry had really wanted to be there for her, he wouldn't have gotten drunk. She couldn't trust him. He clearly didn't really care about her. That thought hurt a lot, but she knew it would only be worse if she let it continue any longer. A clean break would be best for everyone.

There was just no way the two of them could work out. She knew the importance of self-control and Henry did not. It was that simple. He was a loose cannon, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. The two of them were nothing alike. It would never work. His good looks and gentle personality couldn't change that.

Elizabeth had given him an honest chance. He was the one who messed that up. She smiled in satisfaction to herself as she informed Frank she was going over to Henry's. In the morning, Henry would be alone, just like he deserved.

* * *

During the drive over, Elizabeth had been preparing all the lines she'd say to Henry. She was making a list of every time he'd failed to pick up her phone calls or texts. When Frank opened her door, she was deep in thought. She hadn't even noticed that the SUV had stopped and Frank had gotten out.

"We've swept the place ma'am, and you can go in. I'd prefer to go in with you..." Frank had seen the state of Henry during the sweep, and he wasn't excited about letting the Secretary in alone.

"No, Frank. I can take care of myself." _I have to do this myself._

"Alright. You have your panic button?"

She held up the bit of plastic, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

"Okay. Don't hesitate to use it if things get out of hand."

Frank could tell this meeting was not going to be like the polite movie dates he was used to.

* * *

Elizabeth walked into Henry's tiny studio. She saw him sprawled out on the couch next to a couple empty whiskey bottles. There were more empty bottles on the coffee table and kitchen counter. They hadn't spent a lot of time at his apartment because her townhouse was much more comfortable, but Elizabeth could tell he had made an effort to clean up when she came over. Tonight, though, he hadn't been expecting her.

"Good evening, Henry." She smiled coldly down at him.

His head lolled a bit as he looked up at her.

"Com'ere to yell at me?" He asked.

"I came here to break up with you." She said the words simply and crisply.

"In that case, le's have a drink." He tried to get up, but fell right back on his ass.

She was exasperated. "You can't even stand up! Look at yourself, for God's sake!"

Elizabeth watched him staring at the closet. Curiosity got the better of her, and she moved to open the closet door. What she saw took her breath away.

Bottles and bottles of the same whiskey. There had to be dozens of bottles hoarded onto the shelves. Enough to keep a bar open for a month. The sight made her angry. Her stolen breath was quickly replaced by indignation and thinly veiled fear. How had she not seen this? How had she missed this? Was her CIA training failing her?

"What the hell is wrong with you? Henry, this is out of control! How can you let yourself do this?" Maybe she was only so hurt by the sight of all the bottles because she was starting to care too much about Henry.

Henry matched her angry tone, nearly yelling. The neighbors would definitely be able to hear. "You know what? What 'bout you? How can you do tha'to yourself?!"

"Do what?" Elizabeth jeered, thinking Henry was speaking drunken nonsense.

"Your arm! And you think I've got prob'ms! At least I don' hafta cut myself open every 5 minutes to get through th'day."

Elizabeth felt as if she'd been slapped. He knew. Henry knew about her cuts. She huffed back to face him. No matter what he said, she was still better than him. At least she didn't have a closet full of whiskey. "I refuse to put up with this. You need to get yourself together. I can't believe you pretended to be such a great guy when this is what you really are. You're nothing. We're done. Goodbye, Henry."

She turned and started to walk away, heels clicking on the floor with finality.

"You're one t'talk, you big fake... Not as perfec' as you make yoursef outta be. Ya'know, we're really no dif'rent. But at least I don' lie 'bout bein' out of control. You're a fuckin' hypocrite!"

Elizabeth whipped around. She still hadn't gotten the fight she wanted. She stalked back to him, standing in front of him, trying to use every centimeter of her height to intimidate him.

"We are NOTHING alike. I would never wind up passed out on my own sofa. You need to behave like an adult instead of running away from your problems. Some of us have actual responsibilities, and we don't have time to get drunk every other night. I see what you are, and I want nothing to do with you." The last words left her mouth with cold disdain. For some reason, she needed him to know how wrong he was.

He scoffed from his place on the sofa, waving his arm wildly. "Yeah. Those cuts on your arm def'nit'ly aren't runnin' away from your problems."

"How dare you! You know nothing about what I'm dealing with, what I have to deal with on a daily basis. You have no idea the things I've seen, things I've been through..." In spite of herself, Elizabeth felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was determined not to cry in front of Henry. She would show him that she was stronger than that. Maybe once, she would have let a drunken man intimidate her, but not now. She wouldn't let him see that he could hurt her.

"I trieda help! Today you di'n't wan' my help!" Henry shouted at her.

"Because I can't trust you!" She matched his tone. "You're unpredictable and unreliable, and I don't have time for it."

"And you're so fuckin' cold! Your walls are ten fee' high and covered in barbed wire. I'm sick of tryin' to get in."

"Well, don't bother." Elizabeth tilted up her nose. "We're done. Enjoy being a disgusting drunk."

His anger riled up even more, Henry sat forward, swaying, raising a finger in accusation. "Who you callin' disgussing? Don' act so fuckin' high an' mighty!"

"I'm leaving, Henry. Goodbye." Elizabeth smiled primly. Maybe she was being cold, like Henry had said, but it felt good. She liked having the power. Being the rational one in this conversation gave her authority. Right was on her side. If she was high above the fray of the argument, she didn't have to feel the pang of losing the one boyfriend she had managed to find in more than ten years.

Henry jumped up, "You're not leavin' 'til we finish talkin' 'bout this!" He staggered, and then managed to right himself by grabbing the wall. He put himself between Elizabeth and the door.

Elizabeth was so shocked he was able to stand, she just watched as he moved to block her exit. A sliver of fear shot like ice up her spine. She hadn't felt vulnerable until that moment, when she realized she was alone with a drunken man who didn't want to let her leave.

Something of her fear must have flashed in her eyes because Henry did a double take in the way only drunk people can.

Henry never wanted to scare her. He blinked and tried to shake his head to clear his foggy vision. That only made him lose his balance momentarily, and he fell against the wall before he could catch himself.

She sidestepped him and ran from the room in the most dignified manner she could manage.

* * *

"Back home, ma'am?" Frank asked from the front seat of the SUV. He tried to ignore the tears streaming down his protectee's face. The first thing he had done when she came outside crying and trembling was check her over for any injuries and ask her if Henry had hurt her. She had told him she was fine, but Frank wasn't sure he believed her. Of course it wasn't his place to interfere in her personal relationships, but it was his job to keep her safe.

"Yeah. Take me home. Please."

Elizabeth needed to get home. She needed privacy to do what she had to do. No one had discovered her secret before. No one before Henry. She had made a mistake letting Henry into her life. She had messed up and somehow he had found out about the cutting. And then he had gone on to say those horrible things to her.

There couldn't be any similarities between her situation and Henry's, could there? He was out of control with his drinking. Cutting allowed her to stay in control. She was the one in charge of it. Only she could decide when to cut.

She didn't know why she was even thinking about it. She had been so angry when she had entered Henry's apartment. Seeing his stockpile of whiskey made her livid, but it also worried her. She had no idea the problem was that bad. How had she completely missed it? Had she been intentionally ignoring it? When he blocked the door as she tried to leave, it had scared the rest of her anger away. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and she knew it. But he was drunk and not in control of himself. She had no way of knowing how far he would have taken things.

Elizabeth knew she shouldn't have freaked out over him standing in front of the door. No one else would have freaked out about that. She was just being too sensitive. That was why she needed the cutting – to keep from being that sensitive. The cutting helped her keep from caring quite so much about the day-to-day triggers that could potentially send her into a panic attack if she weren't careful.

But then again, she didn't have a choice in the situation. She _had_ to cut tonight, whether she wanted to or not. Now that Henry had said those things, she would need at least a dozen cuts just to be able to sleep. She hated to admit it, but Henry might have had a point. Were the cuts so much different from having a few shots before bed?


	9. Help me understand the war

Chapter 8: Help me understand the war you're fighting

* * *

Henry woke up on his sofa with a pounding headache. Pain came in waves with every beat of his heart. Wincing, he tried to open his eyes. Every muscle in his body hurt. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and his stomach gave an unsettled lurch. If only this weren't a familiar feeling. His phone was buzzing beside him, hurting his oversensitive ears, reminding him that he needed to get moving and go to work. He ran a hand over his face to try to get his hung over brain to wake up completely. Picking up his phone to check the morning news, he noticed a sticky note attached to the screen. It said, in unsteady handwriting, "Call Elizabeth. Apologize."

 _Oh God._

Bits and pieces of the night before flashed before him. He didn't remember much, but he did remember the look of fear in Elizabeth's eyes. One image in what should have been a complete scene, and yet, that was nearly all he remembered. He remembered being at work, seeing Elizabeth upset, and then coming home. After that, just about all he could recall was the terrified expression on her face. What had he done? How could he possibly have scared her that much? He could still see the terrified gleam in her eyes like it was burned into him. It was hazy in his boozy memory, but it was there.

He'd have to call her first thing. Plenty of things could be ignored, but not the frozen, deer in the headlights, look of shock and horror that he had seen in his girlfriend's face.

* * *

Elizabeth heard her alarm clock go off, and she slapped at it to make it be quiet. She groaned indignantly at the perpetual injustice that was waking up in the morning. If only morning could come later...

After she got home the night before, she had made nearly two-dozen cuts, but she had still had a hard time getting to sleep. She was frantic that if Henry had managed to find out about her cutting, someone else probably would soon. And if a man she trusted as much as Henry could turn out to be an angry alcoholic, what did that mean for the rest of the men she was around every day? A shiver ran through her at the thought.

The things Henry said were also not leaving her mind. She had a visceral reaction that her cutting was very, very different from Henry's drinking, but she really couldn't find any logic to support her argument. That made her mad. She refused to entertain the idea that she was as pathetic as Henry McCord with his impulsive drinking. If anything, she was putting all her energy into keeping it together. Henry had no idea what he was talking about. He was just spouting drunken blather.

Oh well. None of that mattered. She and Henry were over.

A pang of loneliness made her heart skip a beat. That thought seemed so bleak. For a few weeks, she had been able to enjoy spending time with another person. Breakups were always hard. They were messy and stressful, and they were the first test of independence. It was almost cruel in a way. Your first challenge as a single person was losing the person you had come to rely upon.

* * *

"Ma'am, I've got Henry McCord on the phone. He said he'd hold for you."

Elizabeth leaned her head back and sagged. She had barely gotten off the elevator, and she was already confronted with Henry. Somehow, she had naively thought that she would never have to think about him again.

"Ma'am?" Blake queried, unsure what to make of her exhausted expression.

Shaking her head, she walked around Blake and headed for her office. "Tell him I'm too busy."

Blake followed half a step behind. "Should I tell him you'll call him this afternoon?"

She had to restrain herself to keep from rolling her eyes. She knew she shouldn't take this out on Blake. He was just doing his job. For the past few weeks, she had been telling Blake to put Henry's calls straight through unless there was something big going on. Blake's confusion was understandable, but Elizabeth didn't want to have to explain. She didn't want to have to explain to her young assistant that she, the Secretary of State, hadn't managed to keep a boyfriend.

"Tell him to talk to Nadine if there are any pressing developments. I have several reports I need to prepare before the meetings this afternoon."

"Yes, ma'am." Blake scurried off.

* * *

On her lunch break, which she only took because she wanted some uninterrupted time to cut, Elizabeth checked her personal cell phone and saw that Henry had tried to call her. He also sent a text.

-Please let me apologize. Please-

This time, she did roll her eyes. Part of her wanted to take his call, but the part of her that was still scared and cornered in his apartment reminded her that opening herself up to a man like Henry was dangerous.

At this point, how could she justify it to herself? If she knowingly continued associating with Henry, after he had already shown her just how angry and hurtful he could be when he was drunk... How could she expect to keep herself safe? Was it not just better to avoid the whole situation?

But then again... She had spent dozens of hours with Henry over the past few weeks, and he had never treated her that way. It came down to the fact that Elizabeth just couldn't know which version of Henry was representative of him as a whole. She knew everyone had bad days, but most people's bad days didn't involve getting blackout drunk and yelling obscenities at significant others. Although, she thought, her behavior after she cut herself couldn't be said to be too great, either.

 _Dammit_. She wished her mind would stop dwelling on what Henry had said about the two of them being so similar. She kept finding more and more comparisons. They sprung up unbidden, and she was doing her best to quash them.

* * *

"Ma'am, I've got Henry McCord again. Do you want me to send him to Nadine?"

Blake read the gossip rags like anyone else, so he knew the Secretary and Dr. McCord had been seeing a lot of each other outside of work, but from her behavior this morning, he guessed they wouldn't be dating for much longer. He had no desire to get in the middle of his boss's personal life, but Dr. McCord was not making that very easy for him.

He watched Elizabeth sigh and then sit up and raise her eyebrows. She was putting on her "game face." Blake had seen it dozens of times before the Secretary spoke to uncooperative and sometimes openly hostile foreign leaders.

"No, put him through. I'll talk to him. Thanks, Blake." She figured she'd have to talk to Henry eventually if only to get him to stop calling. He was nothing if not persistent. She normally loved his tenacity, but in this situation, she just wished he'd go away.

"Of course."

She picked up the phone, starting immediately, without a greeting. "Henry. I assume you're sober enough to speak English now?" Her words were clipped and terse.

He was a little caught off guard by her abrupt start. "Um, yes. I'm really sorry about that. Look, I want to apologize for last night. I didn't mean to scare you... I never meant to scare you." He repeated quietly, remorsefully.

"You did a lot more than scare me." She said, bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Henry's mind panicked, trying to think if he had done anything to hurt her.

Keeping her tone even and cold, even though she was starting to feel bad for acting so bitter, she explained. "Henry, the things you said were awful."

"I'm really sorry if I said anything that-"

She heard the 'if,' and a thought struck her. Her tone was accusing now. She sat up in her chair and leaned her elbows against the desk. "Wait. Do you even remember last night?" She almost felt resigned. She wanted to be angry with him, but there was almost no point if he didn't remember anything. Her initial righteous anger began to sour into an empty feeling of loss.

Henry's response was embarrassed. "Uh… I remember the look on your face when you were scared. That's about all I remember."

An internal war was happening in Elizabeth's mind. Losing Henry would be like having the ground pulled out from under her. But she was not going to put up with him treating her the way he had. She didn't know what to do, and she didn't have anyone to talk to about it. It was down to her, just like everything else. Unable to explain to Henry what she was feeling, her mental turmoil came out as haughtiness.

"So why are you calling me if you don't even remember what you're supposed to be apologizing for?" The disdain in her voice was obvious.

"I…" He hesitated because he wasn't sure how his answer would be received. "I left myself a note. Found it this morning stuck to my phone."

"Oh." Elizabeth didn't know what to say to that. He had wanted to apologize even before he was sober. He had felt sorry immediately. That meant something to her. She knew it was one thing to feel bad about something once you realized the consequences. It was another thing to feel bad about something because you genuinely regretted it and wanted to take it back. You only regretted something immediately if you hadn't actually meant to do it. That told her that Henry hadn't meant to upset her. He hadn't meant to hurt her. When the barbs were flying the night before, it seemed that he had wanted nothing more than to hurt her with his words. But now she had evidence he hadn't intended that.

"I promise I never wanted to scare you. I don't remember the whole situation, and I'm so sorry I was drunk when you called. Yesterday was stressful, and I should have been there for you. I wanted to help. But no matter what happened, I promise I never meant for you to be frightened." Henry's words were quiet and urgent. He _needed_ Elizabeth to understand that he hadn't meant to hurt her. Even if she still broke up with him, he needed her to know that much. Of course, he hoped to god she'd give him another chance, but he knew the decision was up to her, and if she were logical about it, she'd leave him and never look back. If it were a woman in his family, he would be horrified of her dating a guy who yelled at her while drunk.

"I believe you." The words came out low and quiet, but without any of the venom or pretense she had been using before.

There was a beat of silence before he reacted. "What?" He was shocked. He had expected her to yell at him about being drunk like she had before. At least part of himself wanted to be yelled at. It was as much as he deserved.

"I believe you didn't mean to scare me. Thank you for apologizing."

Henry could hear the honesty in her voice. It gave him some hope that the situation could be remedied. "You deserved an apology."

"You were standing in front of the door." Elizabeth blurted out, the tone of her voice slightly breathless, in contrast to the cool restraint she had had earlier.

"Huh?" He was confused again. Elizabeth had spoken almost too fast for him to catch.

"The reason I was scared." Suddenly, she wanted to tell him why she had been scared. She wanted to rationalize her fear. She didn't want to be alone with her worry anymore. "You made me nervous when you stood in front of the door. I felt like I was trapped."

Henry breathed deeply. It was difficult to hear what he had done while drunk. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

It touched Elizabeth that he wasn't just asking for her forgiveness to make himself feel better. He was asking if she was okay. On some level, it made her feel less alone. It made her feel like she hadn't completely misjudged him. The past few weeks, she had gotten the impression that he was a very caring, very attentive person… who would disappear frequently. But when he was there, he was great.

She smiled, a bit sadly. "I'm okay. Thanks for asking."

Was she okay, though? She knew the answer to that. Henry's words, while harsh, had been stewing inside her all day.

Speaking to Henry on the phone almost wasn't enough now. She wanted him there in person. She wanted to feel his hand around her and hear him tell her that everything would be okay.

Elizabeth almost laughed in spite of herself. Even if she hadn't wanted to accept it last night, Henry had been right about some things. The two of them _were_ a lot alike. They both lived to work. That much, she had known for as long as she knew him.

She wasn't sure why she was saying it, but the words slipped out of her mouth. "You wanna go out to dinner tonight?"

That was not what Henry was expecting to hear at all. Caught off guard, he replied without thinking. "Uh. Sure. Of course."

"Okay. Meet me here at 7? You can pick the place."

"Okay. I'll see you then, Elizabeth."

"Right. Bye."

"Bye."

Elizabeth hung up and sat in numb silence. She didn't know what to make of that conversation. This morning, she had never wanted to see Henry again as long as she lived. But the more she listened to how contrite he was... and the more she thought about what he had said...

She felt sorry for Henry. She could tell he hadn't really _wanted_ to drink as much as he did. Sure, he did it, and the responsibility rested solely with him. But given how sorry he was for everything that happened, he hadn't wanted to drink any more than she had wanted to cut. They just didn't have a choice. These things had control of them, and they couldn't stop. Admittedly, she found the alcohol distasteful, but cutting wasn't a whole lot prettier. Plenty of people would think cutting was the more distasteful of the two.

Besides, between the hateful barbs he had thrown last night, he _had_ managed to make some decent points. Having the night to mull over what he said made her more willing to listen to the bits of truth. Last night, she had been telling herself that she was the one in charge of the cutting, not the other way around. But when she got home, she had only meant to make a few cuts, but that had turned into the two dozen gashes that now made her arm itch and burn when she moved it. Once she started cutting, she hadn't had a choice but to continue.

Elizabeth had no idea what she would say to Henry at dinner, but it didn't seem to matter. She wanted to have dinner with him because she knew, at some level at least, he understood.

* * *

That night, they sat in a cozy restaurant with natural wood on all sides. Their booth was right next to the kitchen, so they could smell all of the delicious dishes being prepared.

They tried to ignore Frank staring at them from the next table. There were the customary agents at the entrance and exit of the restaurant, but Frank had said the restaurant was unusually crowded, and he wanted to keep a closer eye on them. Everyone knew that was a lie, and Frank was instead worried that their date night might get out of control.

"I think I'll get the steak and potatoes." Elizabeth took one final glance over her menu before closing it.

"Good choice. I've had that before. It's excellent."

Henry had picked his entrée without even looking at the menu. This restaurant was one of his haunts. All the wait staff knew him by name and knew his regular order. Sharing this place with Elizabeth was like sharing a part of himself with her. He wanted to show her this relaxing oasis that he came to when he needed a retreat.

They didn't speak much before their food arrived. Neither really knew what to say. They had to address what happened the previous night, but without a clear goal in mind, they didn't know how to start the conversation.

Elizabeth didn't know what she wanted. Did she want to break up with Henry? Not really. Did she want an apology? She had already received one. Did she want to pretend their fight never happened and go back to their status quo? Maybe, but that probably wouldn't work.

Looking at his customary pork nachos, Henry was just as unsure. He wanted their relationship to work out and move forward, but addressing his drinking, which was the elephant in the room at the moment, would not be enjoyable.

Somehow, Elizabeth got the nerve to speak up. "I really like you, Henry."

He looked up, waiting for the 'but' to follow. He could imagine how she would end that. She would tell him she liked him, but she couldn't date a man who drank so much. She liked him, but he had scared her, and she couldn't trust him. She liked him, but he had ruined it. She liked him, but this was goodbye.

She smiled at the look on his face. "Don't look so nervous. That's a statement. I really like you."

Henry tried to hide his surprise.

"I like you, and I'm worried that the drinking is hurting you. The way you sounded today, I know you were telling the truth when you said you never meant to hurt me."

He quickly reassured her. "I really didn't mean to hurt you. I promise."

"I know, Henry. I believe you. That's why I asked you out to dinner. But I'm worried the drinking is hurting you. Have you looked into getting help for it? There are groups and things..." She reached a hand out across the table to touch Henry's arm.

No one knew the extent of Henry's drinking besides Elizabeth. He hadn't had to have this particular conversation before. He didn't want to react too soon, so he took a breath and looked at his napkin in his lap.

Henry knew Elizabeth wasn't condemning him for the drinking. She said she was worried about him. She looked so earnest. There was no anger etched on her face – only worry.

Speaking to his napkin, he muttered quietly, "I haven't. I guess I keep thinking I can power through, you know? I'm a Marine. It's what we do."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I get that. And I respect you for trying to be self-sufficient. Will you think about getting help, though? Just think about it."

"I'll think about it." He nodded. He appreciated that she wasn't asking him to stop. She probably knew that he wouldn't be able to commit to that. But he could commit to thinking about getting help.

Henry meant what he said. If Elizabeth hadn't looked so sincerely concerned for him, he might have felt attacked, but she wasn't judging him. He didn't feel ashamed to seek help because she wasn't making him feel like he had done something horribly wrong.

"Okay." Elizabeth took back her arm and picked up her fork, returning them from the intensity of the previous moment.

Relaxing into his seat, feeling the pressure off him, Henry felt the need to apologize for something else. There was something still on his mind. "And just for the record, I'm really sorry I wasn't there for you last night. I know you were upset about what happened in the Sit Room."

Elizabeth bit down on her lip, not sure she was ready for his answer. "So… why do you do it?"

"Drink?"

"Yeah."

Henry sighed. "I guess there are some things I don't want to remember." He looked anywhere but at Elizabeth. The reasons behind his drinking were so intimately personal; he didn't know how to share them.

"Henry? Henry?" Elizabeth called him to get his attention.

He looked up and met her eyes.

"If you want this relationship to work, you're going to have to be willing to talk to me. Even when it's hard." Her meaning was firm, but her tone was gentle.

Now that he was looking her in the eye, he couldn't tear his gaze away. He almost couldn't breathe. She spoke about the relationship so tangibly. Was their relationship still a thing? Were they still moving forward? He wanted to tell Elizabeth everything. He wanted to unburden himself to this beautiful and intelligent woman in front of him. But he was also scared – scared she'd run away the second she heard about all his baggage. He was a private person, and most of what he had to say had never been said out loud before. There was a glint in her eyes that made her look almost hungry, and not for the food on her plate. She looked like she desperately wanted to be able to trust him.

He looked at the grain of the wood on the table because he wasn't sure if he could get through what he had to say without breaking down if he watched her reactions.

His words came with gaps and pauses. Everything was hard to say, but once he got going, it got easier – as if he had been waiting months to tell anyone.

"I was in Bolivia when that whole thing went down. When I was in the compound, they held me with a knife to my throat. I still have nightmares about it. I can still feel the blade against my neck. Then my dad died… suddenly… only a couple weeks after that. He and I weren't on good terms. He never approved of me going to college or enlisting. My dad always wanted me to learn a trade – work in a steel factory like a respectable man. He always said the reason I couldn't find a girlfriend was I was trying to be something I wasn't. Like I wasn't smart enough to be in college or brave enough to be in the Marines… I guess I thought I could prove him wrong eventually, but now he's gone, and he still thought I was a fraud. And the man was my father. I can't help but think he knew something I didn't."

He took a breath. He knew he was omitting the way his father had died, but there were some things that just took time. What if Elizabeth thought he was unstable as his father had been right at the end? He couldn't bear if hearing about his past made her scared of him. He had spent most of his twenties scaring away women.

"He was right about the girlfriend thing, or even friends for that matter. I haven't dated seriously in about twenty years. People hear that I volunteered for extra tours, and suddenly I'm too risky and dangerous. No one wants to date a thrill seeker."

"But that wasn't thrill seeking, was it?" Elizabeth interjected, knowingly.

"No. It wasn't." Henry was surprised at how sharp Elizabeth was. She picked up on everything. "I went into special ops after flying a couple tours. I mean… we saw a lot of… We saw a lot. But I had to keep going. I needed to do something that mattered. The danger didn't matter."

"I think that's pretty brave. I don't like to think about you in those kinds of dangerous situations, but I think there's a lot of honor in serving your country like that."

"Exactly. I was doing something bigger than me. It gave me purpose."

"I get that."

Elizabeth had been able to tell that Henry wasn't afraid of danger the second she met him. But now, it wasn't as intimidating. She understood his motivation, and she respected that. Of course, she wanted him to be safe, but she respected his sense of duty. It was a duty she shared.

They shared a smile.

"So the drinking hasn't been going on forever? Just since Bolivia?" She clarified.

"Yeah. Six or eight months or so." Narrowing down the exact point where his drinking had gotten 'excessive' was hard.

"Well Bolivia was some pretty extraordinary stress. I was in the Sit Room watching that."

"You were?" He did a double take. He had never thought about who had been watching that op. It made sense that she had been watching it, he supposed. Maybe it should have occurred to him before.

"Yeah. I remember seeing you on the monitor when they were holding you."

Henry didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent. He felt slightly exposed, having just shared so much about his life. Knowing that Elizabeth had been watching him during one of the scariest moments in his life made him feel naked... exposed. But somehow, it was also comforting. She had been there with him, in a sense. It made him want to know more about her. Somehow, their lives were connected. She had watched him when he had most scared, and she was back when he was falling apart over it.

Elizabeth speared a potato with her fork to give Henry a moment.

"Yesterday... I guess it was just the stress after the op. We all worked so hard on that.. I worked with..." He glanced around, knowing he couldn't say anything classified where they could be overheard. "I worked there with the team every day. It was just a lot. And then you were so upset, and there was nothing I could do for you. I felt powerless about the op, and I felt powerless when I tried to help you... And after what happened, all I wanted to do was hold you and keep you safe."

He took a breath, pivoting their conversation. He needed to know more. "Yesterday, outside the Sit Room, you were really out of sorts and panicky."

She nodded, mouth still full. What he was saying wasn't uncomfortable. He was just stating facts, but she wasn't sure where he was going, and that made her a little nervous.

"That's not the first time, is it?" Henry was just as good as Elizabeth when it came to reading people.

She swallowed. "No. It's not."

"Will you tell me about it?" He asked, carefully.

Elizabeth put a carrot in her mouth and thought for a moment as she chewed. Henry had shared so much with her that night. She had to decide if she was going to trust him going forward. She had to decide if she were going to jump off that cliff and open herself to him – all the wonderful and imperfect parts of him.

There was something so freeing in deciding to take the plunge.

"Yes. I will tell you, but not tonight. How about you cook dinner tomorrow night? I'll tell you then."

"I can do that."

"It's a date, then."

They smiled at each other. They would be seeing each other again. That was enough.


	10. When I'm lost, will you keep me close?

Chapter 9: When I'm lost, will you keep me close?

* * *

Elizabeth's small dining room table was set to bursting with beautiful dishes Henry had whipped up in less than an hour. Green broccoli, yellow squash, red peppers… The man knew how to make a good-looking meal. He showed up at her house after work with a brown bag of groceries, and in no time, it had transformed into a feast.

"Oh my gosh, Henry. This is beautiful. I don't know how you do it." Elizabeth gushed enthusiastically, coming in from the living room where she had been sitting on the couch checking email.

Henry had kicked her out of the kitchen after she had tried to help. He had had her heat up some butter in a frying pan, and she had managed to make it pop and nearly burn herself.

"I put stuff in pans and heat them up." He joked.

"Well, I think it's brilliant." Elizabeth state definitively, sticking her chin out and nodding with finality.

Henry laughed. "Let's eat." He held her chair out for her.

She settled herself dramatically, pretending she was wearing an elaborate floor length dress. "Thank you, sir."

Grinning, Henry tipped an imaginary hat to her and took his own seat. Even though they were sitting in the middle of Elizabeth's home, it was fun to act as if they were in a formal restaurant. More specifically, it was fun to be able to break the formality whenever they wanted. The freedom was welcome to both of them.

"Did you see Russell's hair this morning?" Henry asked innocently.

Elizabeth nearly snorted into her pasta. "Oh my gosh! I almost forgot! Yes! What on earth happened? He looked horrible!"

Spearing a slice of pepper and waving it in front of her face, Henry teased, "Now, aren't you glad you're my girlfriend? Because I happen to have the whole story."

"Tell me!" She demanded.

Henry popped the pepper in his mouth and smiled. "How's the pasta?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It's amazing, of course. Now tell me what the hell happened to Russell's hair."

"Fine." He bit his pepper, taking time to chew and swallow to create dramatic effect. "He tried to use hair growth shampoo."

"He didn't!" Elizabeth couldn't believe it.

"He did." Henry confirmed.

Elizabeth set her fork down, unable to focus on her food and listen to Henry's story at the same time. "Oh my god."

"Yeah. Turns out he's allergic to whatever is in that stuff."

She barked out a laugh. "That's what the bumps were!"

"Yep."

"How did you find out?"

"I heard him telling the president."

"What did the president say?" She was on the edge of her seat, desperate for the gossip.

"Told him that he would look better bald."

"No." She spoke in disbelief.

Henry nodded calmly. "Yes."

Elizabeth nearly fell off her chair as paroxysms of laughter shuddered through her.

They spent the rest of dinner gossiping innocently about people they worked with. It was work talk, but it wasn't anything stressful. They both enjoyed the chance to unwind. By the end of the dinner, the knot of stress Elizabeth always carried with her had loosened. She had been nervous about telling Henry about her panic attacks and cutting, even though he already basically knew. But now, it wasn't so scary. This was just Henry, who could make her laugh with just a look.

* * *

They took their seats across from each other in the living room. Elizabeth curled her legs under herself, and Henry crossed his legs, looking calm and collected.

"So… You wanted to know why I get… Out of sorts… I think that's what you called it."

Henry waited for her, face open but blank.

"Well, you know I went to Iran to stop the coup. I was, um, in the room when Foreign Minister Javani was killed. His house was bombed." That part had all been in the news. She was sure Henry would have read about it. "One of my agents pushed me down… And then he was shot. He died protecting me."

"Were you hurt?"

"Not seriously. I had twenty-some stitches in my back from the glass, but I was fine. Or, I mean, physically I was fine. I still have nightmares about it. There was this boy… Javani's son…" She paused, to take a calming breath. She hadn't told anyone this part, but she had replayed it so many times in her head that it almost seemed as if the whole world knew. In her mind, everyone knew that Abdul had been there and she had done nothing to protect him. In her mind, everyone knew that when it came down to it, she would cave under pressure.

"When the bomb went off, I kinda fixated on him. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to keep him from seeing his father die. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything." She sniffed, trying to keep the tears back. As long as she had kept the secret, she had expected it to be harder to finally tell. It was in some ways easier to speak about it in plain words, but there was no way to convey in words how much anguish the events had caused her.

"That's really hard. I'm sorry." Henry tried to keep his voice soft and comforting.

Elizabeth continued, without really noticing Henry. She was caught up in telling the story. "Afterwards, when I got back… I guess I thought I could move on, but I couldn't. I couldn't sleep. I'd hear shouting and gunshots and glass breaking when there was nothing there. Then I had a panic attack at work. In the middle of talking to the Chinese. I felt like I was having a heart attack. It was terrifying. I couldn't breathe, and I thought the world was closing in on me. I thought I was going to die."

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was in her home with Henry, not in the middle of her office having a panic attack in front of Minister Chen.

Henry could see her getting agitated. He got up and got her a glass of water.

"Here. Drink some water. It's just me. Take your time." He tried to be calming as he handed her the glass.

She took the cup gratefully. "Thanks."

When she was ready to continue, she set the cup on the end table beside her and swallowed.

"An ambulance took me to the hospital and they told me it was just a panic attack. After that, it seemed like the panic attacks happened practically every other day. I was so worried someone would see me out of control like that. They'd think I wasn't capable of doing my job anymore. The panic attacks just started getting awful. I'd end up huddled in the corner shaking and crying. Sometimes I'd be able to keep them from getting that bad. I'd just get out of breath and nervous, but I could keep things together..."

"That was what happened outside the Sit Room?"

She nodded.

"How do you control it?" He asked gently, keep his tone quiet and free of judgment. "That's the only time I've seen you like that. And even then, if someone didn't know you, they wouldn't have thought anything of it."

"I think you already know." Elizabeth looked down, ashamed.

"Tell me, babe. It'll help to say it." Henry coaxed.

She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what Henry's reaction would be. "I… I cut myself."

Henry closed his eyes to give himself a minute to process. He had already known, at least suspected. But hearing it confirmed was another thing. He almost couldn't imagine feeling so bad you wanted to mutilate your own body. The idea that someone as capable and authoritative as Elizabeth needed to resort to that was difficult. If his feelings for her hadn't been so strong, he might have not have been so devastated. But as it was, it was a huge blow. He knew how strong Elizabeth was. He had seen her in action working to solve international disputes. The woman in front of him was not weak by any stretch of the imagination. So the trauma of what she had seen must have been almost unimaginable, and she had been dealing with it on her own.

He wanted to help. He wanted to do anything that would make Elizabeth feel even the slightest bit better. Thinking rationally, though, he knew the only way he'd be able to really help her was if he understood the problem. And while he had known a few guys who had done it, he hadn't been close with them, and he had never asked about the cutting.

"Can you explain a little about how that works and why it helps you?" He had a lot of questions, but he didn't want to ask something indelicate.

Her words were timid and quiet. "…You aren't disgusted?"

"No. I'm not disgusted. I'm sorry you feel like hurting yourself, and I'm sorry that you have to live with that pain. But I'm not disgusted."

Elizabeth let out a breath. His words made her feel a little better. At least he wasn't mad at her.

"I keep razor blades with me in my purse… I make sure everything is sterile." She tried to keep Henry from worrying. She wasn't trying to scare him.

Henry nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I guess the cutting gives me something else to focus on. When I'm having a flashback or something, the pain keeps me present… The endorphins calm me down and get my heart to stop racing."

"It stops the panic attacks?"

"Yeah."

Henry could understand why Elizabeth would cut herself if it kept her from having to live through panic attacks and flashbacks. It worried him, though. If her hand slipped and she accidentally cut too deep… He didn't want to think about how easy it would be for her to bleed out. He had to know how dangerous it was – how deep her cuts were.

"Will you let me see?" He asked quietly.

"Why?" Elizabeth jumped slightly. She hadn't been planning to show Henry her cuts.

"I want to know how deep they are. I don't want you to accidentally hit a blood vessel…"

She crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders defensively. "I'm not going to do that…"

"I'm only asking because I care about you," Henry said, honestly.

Hesitantly, Elizabeth nodded. She looked into Henry's eyes and saw no reproach, only concern, so she pulled up her left sleeve just a little, hoping that Henry wouldn't look much further. She could show him some of the shallow cuts near her wrist and at least get him to stop worrying.

He got up and knelt in front of her and slowly rolled her sleeve up to her bicep. There were cuts and scars crisscrossed over her entire forearm. Henry didn't touch the cuts, and his surprise didn't register on his face, though mentally, he was reeling at the sight. He had known it would be bad, but he hadn't known how bad, and he hadn't known how much it would affect him to see the physical evidence of her pain.

After a moment of initial panic, Elizabeth almost felt relieved that the cuts were exposed. She spent so much time every day worrying about making sure they were covered and unseen that letting them get some air was a weight off her shoulders.

"That one looks like it hurt a lot." Henry gestured to a particularly thick, raised scar.

"It did. That one bled a lot." She remembered the particularly terrible nightmare that had woken her up. Half asleep, she had started to cut, and she cut a little deeper than she meant to.

Henry nodded and moved slightly to kneel in front of her other arm, lifting it into his lap and looking into her eyes for permission. When she nodded slightly, he rolled up the sleeve to match the other side. The number of scars and cuts was just about the same. Some cuts were clearly fresh and just barely scabbed over. Others were a week or two old. Then there were the scars that were colorless, raised lines.

Elizabeth hadn't been expecting Henry to think to look on her other arm. She wasn't really upset. She figured once he had seen the cuts, he had seen them. Seeing both arms was really no different from seeing one. It impressed her a bit that he expected to find cuts on her other arm. It seemed that he understood her in a way. He seemed to know that the cuts on one arm wouldn't have been enough for her.

Henry didn't look up from where he was examining her injuries. He was looking for signs of infection, but he didn't find any. "Are there any cuts worse than the ones here?"

Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth, surprised that Henry would think there were other cuts. She saw him look up at her, and his face was matter-of-fact. He didn't look appalled or disgusted at all. He looked like he did this every day.

"They're all about the same."

"Okay. You okay?" He wanted to hug her and try to soothe the pain she carried around with her – the pain that had been so much it overflowed onto her skin. But he didn't want to scare her. She still hadn't sought out his touch, and he wouldn't force it on her. Still, he knew that showing someone her cuts would probably be an emotional experience, and he wanted to know that it wouldn't cause her more anxiety.

"I'm okay." She smiled tremulously. Of course she wasn't okay. That was the whole point of their conversation. She was telling Henry that she hadn't been okay since Iran. But she knew he was asking if she was okay that he had seen her cuts. If anything, it was nice to know her secret was out and Henry hadn't reacted negatively.

"Alright." He gave her an encouraging smile.

Henry moved back to his chair and settled in, crossing his legs again. A small chuckle escaped his chest.

Elizabeth was busy pushing her sleeves back down, but she looked up. "What are you laughing at?"

"Us. The pair of us. The amount of effort we go to just to keep up appearances."

In spite of herself, Elizabeth joined him in laughing. They were two powerful, successful, government employees. And yet they needed their crutches just to get through the day.

After a moment, she grew serious again. "Henry, I don't want you to keep up appearances around me. I want to know when you're not okay. When you told me everything last night… I get having unresolved feelings about your parents. I get that Bolivia was traumatic. I…I want this relationship to work… I want you to be able to trust me."

Henry sat forward and matched her sober expression. "Elizabeth, you're the most amazing woman I've ever met. If you're ready to give this relationship a chance, I'm all in. You never need to put up pretenses with me. I know how scary it is to go to another country and nearly get killed. You don't have to be strong for me. I don't want you to bottle it up and feel so bad you want to hurt yourself."

Elizabeth was quiet for a minute.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked her after she didn't speak for a while.

"Yeah. I guess I thought you'd get mad at me and tell me to stop," she admitted.

"I know it's not that simple, babe. If it were that simple, you would have already stopped. You wouldn't have even started in the first place."

Those words surprised her. Henry seemed to get it. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that he understood, but part of her had thought no one would ever understand what she was going through. That was why she had to cut, because she was the only one she could take out her frustration on. Because no one would ever be able to help make it better. No one could fix it.

Henry continued. "You're not going to be ready to stop cutting until you find something else that's more satisfying. Some kind of alternative that _actually_ works."

She looked at him slightly in awe. He _definitely_ got it.

"I assume the same goes for your drinking," she needled, giving him a playful wink.

"I guess so, yeah." Henry smiled ruefully.

"Henry, I'd like you to call me when you want to drink. I want to try to help. I'm worried about the long-term effects of the drinking. I don't want you to feel like you have to drink, and I really don't want you to have a heart attack when you're 60." Elizabeth couldn't help but think that neither of them was particularly young. If she were going to start a relationship with this man, she wasn't going to be okay with him dying from something preventable.

Henry thought about it for a moment. He had to be honest. She deserved that from him at least. "I can't make any promises. But I'll try if you'll try. Try to call me before you cut yourself. Deal?"

"Yeah. Deal." Elizabeth agreed.

"Okay." Henry glanced down at his watch. It was nearly 9:30pm. "I should really probably head home."

Elizabeth stood up and walked him to the door. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. That was amazing. I'm so glad you can cook."

"I'm glad you liked it." He smiled, accepting her compliment.

They stood in front of the door awkwardly. Henry wasn't sure how to say goodbye. Elizabeth was just as unsure as Henry.

Henry decided to ask. "Can I kiss you?"

The question surprised Elizabeth, and she felt tears pooling in her eyes. It was probably just from the amount of emotional energy she had had to expend in telling Henry about Iran and her cutting. She though Henry was so sweet, asking for her permission to kiss her. His concern for her was obvious, and it was a new experience for her. No one had cared about her that way since her parents died.

"Oh, baby…" Henry was distraught at having made his girlfriend cry. She had managed to keep it together during their conversation, but he had finally pushed her too far. "It's okay. No pressure. It's okay."

"No. It's not that." She could tell Henry had misunderstood. She tried to reassure him through her tears. "I'm not upset."

He looked at her skeptically. There wasn't much use in trying to convince him that she wasn't upset.

"I mean… I just didn't think you'd even want to kiss me after I told you everything. After you saw the cuts…"

He resisted the urge to push her hair back and wipe away her tears. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but he knew he'd only do more harm than good if he touched her when she didn't want him to. "I've wanted to kiss you since our first date. That hasn't changed. Seeing the cuts didn't change my feelings for you."

"I didn't know you wanted to kiss me… But thanks for asking before you just tried it. No one's ever asked my permission before. Hell, even my first kiss as a teenager… The guy just forced himself on me, and he was terrible anyway." She remembered back to the bumbling attempts her high school boyfriend had made. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he never bothered to ask her if she wanted to do anything. He had it in his mind that it was his job to initiate things, and then if he were good enough, she'd let him continue. She had kicked him to the curb once she realized he was only after sex.

"This isn't like that." Henry shook his head. "I'm never going to force myself on you. I promise. It's up to you. If you'd like for me to kiss you, I'd love to. But only if you want it."

She nodded. "Kiss me."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Each was making sure the other was ready and willing. All they saw was eager, if slightly nervous, anticipation. Their mouths met slowly with all the tender potential and hope they felt for their relationship. They had spilled some of their secrets and been encouraged that the other wasn't scared off. For the first time in years, they both felt like they had someone they could trust.

Henry was surprised at how soft Elizabeth's lips were. He felt her lips caress his with a simple grace that took his breath away. She wasn't being demanding or pushy. She was just exploring and taking her time. Henry had thought she might be just as authoritative while kissing as she was when she talked to world leaders in her role as Secretary of State. Instead, she was allowing him to have equal input into their kiss. He tried to show her with his lips and tongue that he thought she was the most valuable and precious woman he had ever met. He wanted to comfort her – soothe away her pain. He used his lips and tongue to caress her sensitive skin and slowly, calmly, explore.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Henry's neck, and allowed Henry to put his hands on her hips. She could feel his five o'clock shadow rough against the edges of her lips, but Henry was gentle enough that it didn't hurt at all. She felt Henry massaging her lips with his own, and she relaxed, letting the tension drain from her body. When their kiss was over, and they broke apart for breath, she sank into his embrace and rested her cheek against Henry's shoulder. It was calming in a way she hadn't felt in years.

"You wanna bring me lunch tomorrow?" She asked softly, rubbing her nose and cheek against his muscular chest.

Henry smiled. It felt so right to hold Elizabeth in his arms. She fit perfectly against his chest – her thin frame complementing his broader one. Keeping one hand on her hip, he let the other glide up her back to gently hold her to him, wrapping her in his love. He felt himself relax as he held her. She was such a wonderful, vibrant, and intelligent person, and she wanted him to hold her. He couldn't resist that.

"I'd love to." He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

They shared a smile and another quick kiss. With that, he left to go back home to his dark and silent apartment. Tonight, though, it didn't seem so lonely. He could still feel the trust and comfort of holding Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her bedroom, her body was still tingling with the feeling of Henry's arms around her. She wanted to hurry up and get to bed before the memory faded. Normally her thoughts were so jumbled as she was trying to sleep, but tonight, she was glad she would have time to replay the moment downstairs with Henry over and over in her mind.


	11. Cause you are not alone

Chapter 10: 'Cause you are not alone, I am there with you

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Elizabeth and Henry saw each other nearly every day, either for lunch or dinner. They spent hours lingering over dinner, not wanting to say goodnight. Their goodbye kisses were appropriately innocent, but they would drag on and on, neither wanting to leave. Elizabeth learned that she quite liked letting Henry greet her with a gentle hug. At night, his hugs made her wish he would never leave. Even so, neither ever suggested spending the night together. It wasn't that they didn't want to, but they both were concerned about moving too quickly. Relationships took time, and neither wanted to ruin the potential they had. Besides, their relationship had gotten off to such a rocky start that it just didn't seem wise to add any more pressure. Simple lunch and dinner dates were enough to be going on with. They knew they needed time to get to know each other. Given how much each had already accomplished, they had whole lifetimes to catch up on.

Elizabeth had gotten calls from Henry on several evenings when they weren't together. They talked politics and work. Elizabeth never said anything, but she could tell from the tension in Henry's voice that he wanted to drink. She was gratified that he was calling her first instead of immediately resorting to alcohol. She knew he wasn't going to stop drinking overnight, but his effort was obvious, and at the moment, that was enough. It meant he had heard her when she told him she was concerned about his drinking. It gave her a lot of hope for their relationship that he was keeping his word and making an effort. He could have just as easily walked away entirely, but he chose to stay and really try to make a go of it.

In the couple weeks since their first kiss, when Elizabeth had wanted to cut herself, she hadn't called Henry. She didn't know how to start a conversation like that. She didn't want to upset him or scare him by saying something too graphic. Most often, though, when she wanted to cut, she was panicky and she felt like she didn't have time to wait and call Henry. Besides, what if he didn't pick up? What if he were busy? If she called when he wasn't available, she would feel like a burden – an inconvenience.

If she were being honest with herself, what she was really worried about was calling Henry when he was drunk. When she had tried last time, the night right after she had had the panic attack outside the Sit Room, it had made her feel even more isolated to call Henry when he couldn't help her. If she chose not call him, she could always pretend that he would have been right there to help her if only she had reached out. In that case, it wasn't his fault, and she didn't have to be disappointed. But if she called him and he was drunk, there was no one who could help her. All in all, it was just easier to keep on cutting. It was easier to keep blaming herself for not reaching out. It was safer to take out all her frustration on herself because part of her wondered if Henry would be able to handle her at her worst. Besides, she _liked_ Henry. She didn't want him to have to put up with her when she was angry and upset.

* * *

At Murphy Station, Henry worked steadily on compiling reports together and deleting outdated information. The situation with HS in Pakistan was getting progressively worse, and decision makers from the White House and National Security Council were starting to request reports on anything that might give them an idea about how to fix the situation. To that end, Henry sat in his office writing briefs about the particular religious ideology that motivated HS. It was stressful because the situation was so urgent, but he was good at his job, and he knew what he was doing. At least it gave him something concrete to do after watching Mimi Jacobs get blown up. The sense of purpose kept him from dwelling on her death.

He enjoyed being able to call Elizabeth when he was stressed out. It helped, undoubtedly. A lot of times, they didn't even talk about the thing that was bothering him. They talked about small things that helped them unwind, and several times that had been enough to help Henry keep from feeling like the world was spinning out of control. He still drank most nights, but he had also avoided it some, too. And even on the nights he drank, he tended to drink less. His conversations with Elizabeth were small oases of calm that helped him remember that HS was not going to destroy the planet in one day. Sometimes the pace of events at work made him feel frantic, ineffective, and out of control. When he felt like that, only getting drunk could make him forget. But if things weren't too bad, talking to Elizabeth made him feel at least a little better.

Henry finished the report he was working on and emailed it to Stamford so it could be distributed to everyone who needed it. Just as Henry was stretching his muscles before starting his next project, his phone rang. The caller ID told him it was Elizabeth on her office phone. She didn't usually call him at work unless it was to cancel a date when she got too busy. They didn't have a date planned that day because Elizabeth had had a late night at work the previous night and desperately needed to catch up on sleep. Henry smiled, hoping that she would ask him to bring her lunch or cook her dinner. Being able to feed her was immensely satisfying. It was a tangible way he could show his affection.

Henry picked up the phone and greeted her. "'Morning, babe. How are things going over there?"

Her voice was agitated and rushed. "Fine. Fine. I guess. I don't know. Things are just hectic and everyone's running around like the world is going to end."

"Well, _is_ the world going to end?" Henry tried to joke to lighten the mood.

"No. It's just this senator from Texas saying he doesn't support our actions against HS. He seems to have picked up on the failed op from a few weeks ago."

"But the press was already told about that. That's not news. No one thought it was a big conspiracy then…"

"I know. I know. But this guy is trying to make hay out of it. He's not going to do anything except distract from what we actually need to be doing."

Henry heard Elizabeth try to rationalize the situation. She was trying to convince herself that being upset over the situation wasn't productive because this sort of thing happened all the time. Henry knew how she thought, and he knew that's what she was doing.

"Babe, you okay?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm just letting this guy get to me. We can't afford to lose public opinion right now. And he keeps saying I knew the op was going to fail. I didn't. I really didn't." She was almost pleading with him.

"He's a crackpot, babe. No one outside of Texas is going to care what he thinks."

"But maybe he's right. I should have known that op was a bad idea…" She ran a hand through her hair in anxious frustration.

Henry could hear her descending into self-blame. He spoke firmly but quietly, forcing her to listen. "But hurting yourself isn't going to change anything."

Elizabeth sat still for a few seconds, surprised that Henry had guessed why she was calling him. She probably should have known he would figure it out without her even saying it. One of the reasons she liked him so much was how perceptive he was.

Eventually, she replied. "Logically, I know you're right…"

"I hear a 'but' coming in there." Henry prodded, gently.

"But that doesn't change that I'm upset, and I want to," Elizabeth admitted, feeling like she had finally released something she had been waiting to say. It didn't matter that intellectually, she knew she had no reason to be upset. She still felt attacked and hurt by this Texas senator.

"I know, babe." He could relate. Logically, he knew that getting drunk wouldn't solve his problems, but that rarely stopped him from drinking. "But you called me first, and that's a success, no matter what happens."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I'm so glad you called me. I'm here for you, babe. I'm not going to let some stupid senator make you feel bad."

Tears started forming in the corners of Elizabeth's eyes. She tried to blink them away. "That's a really sweet thing to say." It was such a contrast to hear Henry's care for her as opposed to the senator who just saw her as a faceless part of the government establishment. Henry knew she was a person with feelings just like everyone else. Maybe part of the problem was she had tried to convince herself that she was immune to all of those unpredictable feelings, only Henry was smart enough to know better.

"I mean it, Elizabeth. I'm here for you, whatever it is."

Her tears fell in full force now. She couldn't remember the last time someone had told her that - given her that unconditional support. It had probably been her parents. Even in college, she didn't let any friends get close enough to really support her. At the CIA, she had tried so hard to prove herself capable, she hadn't let anyone see her vulnerabilities. Somehow, Henry had managed to reach through her defenses and see her as a human. He was really there for her, sober and everything. It had been so long since she could trust someone with personal things. A sense of relief washed over her, and for the moment, it took the urgency off her desire to cut.

"It's just so hard sometimes. I try to be strong and do everything right, but sometimes no matter what I do, everything goes wrong." She cried. "My work is all I've got, and if people don't think I can do a good job… I have to show them that I can handle this. I'm strong enough. And sometimes the only way to be strong enough is to cut." Sniffing, she tried to compose herself after that little outburst. She hadn't meant to show Henry how upset she was, but it did feel good to be able to get it out.

Henry kept his words even, trying to keep her from getting too emotional. "You don't need to cut. I know you're strong, and I know you're capable. You don't need to cut to prove that to me. It's okay to let yourself be scared, okay?"

More than anything, Henry wished he could wrap her up in a hug that made her forget all her insecurities. He wished he could show her how much she mattered to him. If she only knew how wonderful he thought she was, she might not need to cut. Hearing her tears over the phone tore at his heart, and he wanted something to do to help her. At the moment, he knew he could only talk to her and be a voice of calm. It wasn't enough, but it was something. He desperately wanted her to know that she didn't have to pretend to be brave all the time. So many people expected so much of her, but Henry needed her to know that with him, she didn't have to be the impressive Secretary of State. She just had to be herself.

"It's not okay to be scared. I have a job to do." She mumbled into the phone.

"I love you, Elizabeth. You don't have to be strong for me."

He hoped he could center her and get her mind off her urge to cut. The words just fell out of his mouth, and only after he said them did he realize that it was the first time he had told her that he loved her. It was completely true, but he hadn't wanted to push her. Anyway, it was already said now. No taking it back.

Elizabeth hadn't heard anyone tell her they loved her since her mother had said it the day of the car crash. It almost took her breath away how sincere Henry was when he said it. She could tell he wasn't just saying it to make her feel better. He really meant it.

"I love you, too, Henry." She managed to choke the words out through her tears.

Her words filled his chest with warmth. She loved him. The most powerful woman in the country loved him. He was a little overwhelmed.

"Baby, let me take you out to lunch. You could use a break from the office." Whether it was a celebration or a diversion tactic, he didn't know, but he knew he wanted to see her.

Elizabeth noticed that her phone was blinking. Someone else was trying to call her. She checked the caller ID and saw that it was Daisy. She took a deep breath, stuffing her emotions back down. It might be okay to be in tears with Henry, but Daisy was her employee.

"I don't have time, Henry. Daisy's calling me right now. She was wanting me to give a statement to the press to try to get ahead of this thing."

"Do you need to take her call? I can wait."

"Maybe I should. You sure you've got time?"

"See what Daisy wants. I'll still be here," he promised.

Elizabeth put Henry on hold and took Daisy's call. All Daisy had to tell her was that there would be a press conference in an hour, and she and Matt would have remarks for her to read and approve soon. Elizabeth didn't really pay attention to any of it except for the part about having one hour until the press conference. She got off the phone with Daisy quickly.

"Henry, you still there?" Her voice was a little unsteady because she knew what she had to do.

Henry heard her tone. "I'm here, babe. You okay?"

"Yeah. Daisy called a press conference in an hour. I'll have to be ready to go."

He tried to placate her. "You'll be fine. Everything will be fi-"

"Henry… If I'm going to be ready to get in front of people and take questions, I need to cut…"

Henry sighed. He knew that Elizabeth needed to cut. She didn't have time to try something else. She had a job to do, and he knew she'd be more upset if she lost it during her press conference. It hurt him to think that he was allowing her to cut, but he had to remind himself that most of the time, he didn't know she was cutting. It wasn't really any different now that he knew she was cutting. If anything, it was better that he knew when it was happening. He could check in on her later to make sure she was okay. Besides, she had called him first. She had let him in – that was a success. Baby steps. It still left a sour taste in his mouth, though.

Henry wished he could give Elizabeth the comfort that cutting gave her. He didn't want her to accidentally cut herself too deep, but he had seen the cuts on her arms, so he knew it was unlikely. If she was cutting so she could be ready for the press conference, she wouldn't cut too deep and risk missing the whole thing. She would be careful – he hoped.

"I don't like it, babe, but I understand. I'll check in on you later. But call me back if something comes up, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Henry."

"I love you. Be safe."

"I love you, too. Talk to you later."

Elizabeth hung up the phone and thought it was funny how quickly she got used to telling Henry she loved him. It felt natural. Something she had never said to him before in her life now felt normal.

She went into her bathroom and locked the door behind her. The box of supplies under her sink was getting low. Her tool of choice was a single-edged razor blade. A box of a hundred was about the same size as a box of matches. She tried not to use a blade more than once so there was less risk of infection. There were still probably two-dozen blades left in the box, though. She rolled up her sleeve and disinfected both the blade and her skin with an alcohol swab.

There was a little ritual to the process. Pick the place to cut, get out the supplies, and then clean the skin and the tool… The same process every time. Like an algorithm. Like an equation – a problem and a solution. Input panic and output calm. It was soothing. It worked.

* * *

That night, Elizabeth was standing in front of the open fridge, trying to find something edible for dinner. Now that Henry had been helping with the shopping, she had a variety of vegetables and simple ingredients that she had no idea how to prepare. When her landline rang, she picked it up without looking to see who was calling.

"Hello…"

"Ma'am, I've got Henry McCord here." It was Frank on the other end of the phone.

"Oh." She closed the fridge. "Uh, send him in."

She replaced the phone and smoothed down her slacks where they had wrinkled during the day. She hadn't been anticipating a visit from Henry, and she hoped he wouldn't want to talk at length about what had happened that morning. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash everything ad nauseum.

"Hey, babe." He called as he entered the door. "I brought stuff for dinner. How does steak sound? I also got some salad if you want to eat light…" He trailed off as he came in the kitchen and found her standing with an odd expression on her face. Her mouth was tilted up on one side, and her eyes were squinted just a bit. It might have been a smile, but her squint made it look like she was about to cry.

He set the brown paper grocery bags in his arms down on the counter and turned back to her. "You okay?"

Elizabeth nodded as she took two steps towards Henry and threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent.

Henry accepted her weight with a small grunt. He wrapped his arms around her waist. He could feel her tears begin to soak through his shirt.

"It's okay. I've got you. I'm right here." He rubbed her back gently, and that seemed to release some of the tension in her muscles. He didn't really know what to say. Even though she had started letting him hug and kiss her at the beginning and end of each date, this was still new. She hadn't sought out his touch or physical comfort like this.

Henry enjoyed being able to hold Elizabeth. He didn't like that she was upset, but when she had called him that morning, this was all he had wanted to do. He wanted her to have a safe place to let go of the defenses she had had to build around herself.

After a moment, he lifted a hand to smooth down Elizabeth's hair. Elizabeth seemed to like that, too, and she burrowed a little deeper into his body. He cradled her head in one hand and cooed into her ear.

"What is it, babe?" He asked her quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"You're here, and you brought dinner." She said, tears still falling.

"I'm here." He confirmed, slightly confused.

She sniffed. "I thought things might be different after this morning."

"Elizabeth, I'm proud of you for calling me this morning. That took a lot." He spoke sincerely.

She silently nodded, still hiding her face in his shirt. Acknowledging what an effort it had been to decide to call Henry.

Henry continued, "But you did it. And now we're going to have some delicious steak."

She looked up at him and smiled as the tears on her face dried. "I love you."

Henry leaned down and kissed her, checking first to make sure it was okay. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered against her lips. "I love you, too."

* * *

As Henry cut into their steaks to make sure they were sufficiently cooked, he called to Elizabeth who was busy setting the table.

"There're a couple movies in one of the bags. You want to pick one out?"

"I think I can do that." Elizabeth smiled.

Henry watched her pull the movies out of the bag. He could see that she was fine, but he still worried about her. Part of him wanted to ask her to show him the cuts she had made, but he didn't want her to think he was hovering, so he contented himself with seeing that there was no blood on her clothes, and she was walking around just fine. If she had done life-threatening damage, he would be able to tell, he reasoned.

After dinner, they settled in to watch the comedy that Elizabeth had picked out. Henry was surprised when she curled herself up against his side, resting her head against his chest. He tried not to show her that he was surprised, though. He didn't want to make her self-conscious, and he hoped she would make a habit of cuddling. It felt _right_ to have her snuggled up against him. He loved her, and she was letting him share her warmth – both figuratively and literally. That morning, all he had wanted to do was hold her and soothe away her fears. He knew that wasn't practical, but at least he could try. He could keep her safe and comfortable. His fingers gently massaged her back as he had discovered she liked. She seemed to like being massaged in general. It was probably all the stress she carried around from work.

Elizabeth reveled in the physical attention. It wasn't something she had experienced much since college, and even then, her boyfriends and girlfriends hadn't been that serious. Somehow, when they touched her, it hadn't felt satisfying. It hadn't felt bad – just not as fulfilling as people talked about. With Henry, she could tell his touch actively made her feel cared for and loved. There was something intentional about the way he touched her. He wanted to make her feel good. He wasn't selfish. That changed things.

She consciously allowed her muscles to relax. She knew she could trust Henry. With him, she didn't have to be responsible for everything. She could leave work at work and focus on their time together. When she was at home alone, all she had running around in her head was work and unresolved memories. With Henry, she could think about the tantalizing way his fingers rubbed her hip and the broad strength of his chest. He was a good cuddler, she thought. He was muscular, but not bony. His body was warm, and he made sure her head was supported so her neck didn't get sore. She doubted he even noticed the constant movement of his fingers where he caressed her side with one hand and her upper back with the other. It was soothing – very soothing. After such a long day, the stress and tension were about the only things keeping her awake, and those were quickly dissipating.

Even though the movie was funny, Elizabeth felt herself nearly dozing off in Henry's arms. She was relaxing, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to let herself fall asleep in front of Henry. She hadn't slept in front of anyone since she had been working in Iraq with the CIA, at least not in the same room. By now, it was just an ingrained habit, a remnant of a deeply held anxiety. But Henry was different.

She wasn't nervous around Henry, and she _had_ had a long day… Maybe it would be okay to just take a short nap.

As she tried to let herself drift off, though, she jolted awake every few minutes. As soon as she felt herself getting too close to unconsciousness, a short stab of unease went through her heart, her mind at war with her body – exhausted and needing sleep but also unable to forget the fear that would never truly leave her.

Henry noticed his date trying to keep herself awake without much success and murmured softly to her. "Babe, the movie's over."

She hadn't noticed that the end credits were rolling.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" He cajoled. "I'll clean up down here and see myself out."

"You sure?" She tilted her head up to look at Henry. She was warm and cozy lying in his arms.

"I'm sure. You need sleep."

They shared their now customary goodnight kiss, still just as tender and loving as the first had been. Henry smiled at how groggy she was. She was cute when she was sleepy. She was always cute, he thought, but she was particularly cute when she was draped over him like a wet rag.

Elizabeth nodded. Her exhaustion was beginning to consume her. She dragged herself upstairs and prepared for bed. She was just settling in under the covers when she heard the front door downstairs close and her phone buzzed with a text.

-Night, babe. Lunch tomorrow?-

She sent a quick text before falling asleep.

-Thanks for dinner. Lunch sounds great. Goodnight-

Henry went home and poured himself a double shot of whiskey. Even after spending the evening with Elizabeth, he still needed something to get himself to sleep. At least it was better than getting wasted drunk the entire evening. He had lunch with Elizabeth to look forward to, so maybe two drinks was all it would take…

* * *

Over the next couple weeks, Elizabeth got more comfortable calling Henry. He was easy to talk to. Every time she called and he wasn't drunk, it made it a little bit easier to trust him. The trust made it easier for her to call him when she wanted to cut. Most days, she only cut herself a little bit first thing in the morning and then again before she went to sleep.

She had had a couple panic attacks, but somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to call Henry when that was happening. It seemed like it was already too late for him to help. And why hurt him like that? She didn't want to make him feel like he didn't matter to her. Most of the time, he did help her... When she was panicking, though, there was no question about her need to cut. She thought it was a little unfair to call Henry and ask for his support when she had already decided to hurt herself. Besides, there was something so much more vulnerable about being in a state of panic than there was about cutting. At least cutting was addressing the problem. Panicking was allowing the problem to control her…

Henry loved getting her calls, even if she was upset and wanting to cut. His life had felt so lonely for years. Ever since he had gotten out of active duty, really. When he was flying missions, he had a unit – a family. Of course he still had some family back in Pittsburgh… but in the years since his mother's death and especially since his father's death… They hadn't stayed close. There was too much between them - words that could never be taken back. But when Elizabeth called, he didn't feel so alone. It was nice to be needed. When she called and needed him to help her calm down, it was something he could do to give back to her. She made him feel less alone, and he helped talk her through the stresses of her job.

He really felt like things were getting better. Most days, Henry only needed a few drinks to get to sleep. He got blackout drunk a couple times, and he made sure to time it so Elizabeth didn't notice, but for the most part, he called her before it got to that point. He was almost able to convince himself that his problem was over. A few drinks a night wasn't really a problem, and as long as he only got drunk when Elizabeth didn't know... what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Besides, when he was sober, he was always there for anything Elizabeth needed.

Somehow, they had learned to integrate their lives, at least some. They had figured out when they could take mutual lunch breaks. Certain days were always busy, so they had dinner dates instead. On Mondays, they both usually had to stay late to take care of things that had come up during the weekend, so they knew not to bother trying anything but a late dinner on Mondays. But late dinner was still something to look forward to, and it made the whole day better.

It was the little things. Henry learned she loved anything strawberry flavored, and she learned about his weakness for M&Ms. He knew she would do anything for Chinese dumplings, and she knew he couldn't resist a cheeseburger pizza. Before they had started dating, they both managed things perfectly fine on their own, even if Elizabeth's diet mostly consisted of cold cereal. In some ways it was easier now that they were dating. They didn't have to worry about when they'd get a chance to go see the new blockbuster at the theater. They'd go on their weekly date night. When one of them got hung up at work and couldn't swing by the dry cleaners, the other could take care of it. However, neither one was used to having to consult anyone else before making decisions. It took some adjusting to allow each other to help out. Before, Henry would have just gone to the grocery store without thinking about it, now he usually needed to check with Elizabeth before he went to make sure he didn't miss something that they would need later in the week. Of course they could both go separately, but given their work schedules, too many shopping trips ate into the too little time they had to spend with each other. It was more efficient if they went once and got everything they would need, but that took some planning.

Both of them enjoyed it, though, even if they had to modify routines that had been ingrained for decades. There was something exciting about learning to share life with a partner. Part of the excitement came from their relationship being new, but part of it came from the deep feeling of fulfillment they were just starting to recognize.

And even if it meant having to consciously coordinate grocery store runs, Elizabeth was grateful her diet no longer consisted of cold cereal and TV dinners.


	12. Nothing can stop you like a woman

Chapter 11: Nothing can stop you like a woman

* * *

Henry started putting away the Scrabble board as Elizabeth gathered the cardboard boxes that had contained their Chinese food. They had managed to get through two complete games. The only reason they had played the second was Henry was convinced he could win if he just upped his game. He had been mistaken. Elizabeth had beaten him both games, and not by a small margin, either.

"Are you going to have time to come eat lunch with me tomorrow?" She called from the kitchen.

"I should. We don't have anything scheduled." He said, still trying to figure out how he had gotten beaten so badly. He slid the Scrabble box onto its place on the shelf.

Elizabeth reentered the room. "You don't have any big international stings planned?" She queried, feigning shock.

"Not tomorrow." Henry chuckled.

"Well then, what do you guys even do over there all day sitting around the Pentagon?" She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, teasing.

Henry made a list, counting on his fingers. "You know... Play darts, topple foreign regimes, and cause some international conspiracy. Oh, and we eat a lot of bagels."

Elizabeth laughed. She walked up to Henry and leaned against him, kissing him softly. She loved kissing him. It was a way she could check in on him. He could cover up a lot – after all he was a trained spook – but when they kissed, Elizabeth could read right through him. Tonight, his lips were relaxed. It calmed her. When Henry had bad nights, his kisses were forced, and it upset her, even if she tried not to show it. She took his bad nights personally.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned you all can keep doing it as long as you keep wearing the sexy uniforms." She flirted, playing with the hem of his shirt.

Henry raised an eyebrow and held her hips gently. He knew she was still a little uncomfortable with too much physical contact. Kissing, she could handle, but she would only let him hold her if she initiated it. It made him appreciate their cuddling all the more.

"Is that what does it for you? The uniforms? Because I've still got a bunch of uniforms… I could start wearing dress blues every day."

"Are those the ones with the tight white pants?" She glanced up at him through her eyelashes.

Henry grinned at her. "Oh you just like the pants…"

"I don't _just_ like the pants…" She countered, playing with the lapel on his blazer.

"Yeah?" He pecked her cheek, teasingly.

"I mean, the pants are nice…" She tried to flirt back, but a yawn overtook her, and she couldn't hide it.

Henry laughed. "Okay, babe. You need sleep." He rubbed her shoulder lightly.

Elizabeth nodded and then grew serious, looking up at him and biting her lip in worry. "You gonna be okay tonight?"

"Yeah." Henry said firmly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "How about you? You alright?"

She nodded again, tucking her head into Henry's chest. "Tonight was good." She planted a kiss against his neck.

"Who knew Scrabble and Chinese food could make a good date?" He kissed the top of her head.

Henry rubbed Elizabeth's back and felt her tense slightly before she caught herself and relaxed. He kissed her in silent apology. He never meant to push her into physical contact, but he did hope he could help her loosen up.

"As long as you've got dumplings…" She continued trailing light kisses along his jaw before another yawn escaped.

"Okay, babe. Go sleep. I'll see you for lunch tomorrow." Henry encouraged.

"I love you." She clutched him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

Henry grinned, but tried not to show his delight. He would never get over the pride it gave him when Elizabeth said that.

"I love you, too, baby." He matched her hug and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Would you bring me dumplings tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll bring you dumplings, promise."

"Okay. Goodnight." She pecked him on the lips one last time and let Henry leave.

Henry stood on Elizabeth's porch smiling. There were three parts to his nightly ritual now. One was saying goodbye to Elizabeth, and that could take a long time, but it was the most enjoyable. The second part happened every night as he walked to his car parked in Elizabeth's driveway.

"Goodnight, Frank."

"Goodnight, Dr. McCord."

The final part of his nightly ritual would happen when he got home. He'd pour himself a glass of whiskey – probably three or four ounces, and if he started drinking it quickly right when he got home, he'd be ready to fall asleep by the time he had his clothes prepared for the next day.

Henry's new strategy was to drink very quickly rather than drinking a lot. He'd get drunk for a short amount of time, but that would let him get to sleep. Since he wasn't drinking all evening, he wasn't as hung over the next day. It was working pretty well, at least on the nights he couldn't be drunk all evening.

* * *

In the morning, Elizabeth woke up to the sound of her alarm. The first glow of sunlight was beginning to creep through the window, but most of the city was still asleep. The rest of the world, however, was not asleep. Europe would have started business hours ago, Asia would have just finished the day. She was always playing catchup. Picking up her phone, she scrolled through the headlines, trying to assess if there would be any major public issues she would have to address.

Nothing so far. A few articles about state level legislation, but that didn't bother her.

She sat up slowly, assessing how she felt. Her body was asking her to go back to sleep, but that wasn't an option. No, she needed to go into the office and begin any number of ongoing tasks that needed doing. Periodic budget review, foreign aid recommendations, evaluation of humanitarian treatment, monitoring of worldwide elections standards, statements about human rights abuses... The day to day drudgery was often pushed aside for more pressing emergencies. Deputies and undersecretaries were there for that kind of stuff.

But when Elizabeth wasn't occupied with an international crisis, she had to oversee the operations of the State Department. After all, she had final authority. She was ultimately responsible. If something went wrong, she had to answer to the President.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up from her bed. It was time to get to work. Time to put on her professionalism and restraint. She had to be even-tempered when she worked. Reacting harshly or emotionally could jeopardize so much more than her own reputation.

Not that she didn't enjoy the challenge or the job. But it was a lot, and she had to maintain control at all times. Her panic attack in front of Minister Chen had shown her that. That could have cost her her job. Worse, that could have started an international conflict...

Standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, she reached into her cabinet and pulled out the stained towel and razor blades. From the first time she intentionally cut with the beauty scissors, she had used the same towel when she was at home. She washed the towel often, but it still held a record every time she cut. There was something so satisfying about seeing the white fabric permanently marred by her blood. The pain that left her body left a mark. There was evidence – proof – of the lengths she went to to stay strong. The towel proved that she wouldn't let anything get to her. Her secret was her own... well, hers and Henry's at least. When she was around him, she didn't need to cut. When they were spending time together, the sound of his voice, the way he lit up when he was excited about something, the sound of his laugh... all of it made her happy. His happiness made her happy, too.

But Henry couldn't be with her at work. At work, she needed to be Secretary Adams, the collected, professional woman who was unfazed by anything. She had a job to do, and getting too close to her staff would only make that job harder to do. She wasn't uncaring, but the mission had to be their first priority. Everything else should be done on personal time. If staying above mindless gossip and office drama meant being a little too sterile – hiding her personality – so be it.

Glancing down at the blade in her hand, she knew the only way she could maintain her cool air of authority was to be a little bit detached from her emotions. She had to stay above the ups and downs of the office and her own mind. And that meant she had to cut. Because no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't shake the memories that would come back and overwhelm her. Of course she didn't _want_ to cut, but the pain of cutting was nothing to the pain she would feel if she couldn't do her job. Elizabeth was a passionate, driven woman, and she wouldn't let herself disappoint the president or the country.

* * *

Nadine met her boss at the elevator. "Ma'am, we've got a situation with Texas."

"Good morning, Nadine." Elizabeth said pointedly.

Hanging her head momentarily, Nadine greeted the Secretary. "Good morning, ma'am." They walked together in silence until they got to Elizabeth's office.

It was one bit of formality Elizabeth liked to keep in the office. Situations could get tense and disturbing, but as long as they could start out the day with some professional distance, things were easier. Now that she was in the office, she was the Secretary, not Elizabeth. It was the only way she could keep her personal convictions separate from what she had to do as part of her job. While she might have liked to cut off ties to Saudi Arabia or support democratic challengers to dictators in Africa, she had to hold the official line of the administration to keep conflict from breaking out. Her job was to keep war from breaking out. Simple enough.

"Alright, tell me about Texas." Elizabeth sighed as she set her bag down on her desk.

"They're seceding." Nadine stated simply.

She groaned, bracing herself against her desk. "No, they're not. Because they know how incredibly stupid that would be. Tell me they know how incredibly stupid that would be…"

"Apparently not."

"Does Texas not realize I have better things to do? Why is this my job? Can't we make the Secretary of the Interior do this? What do they do in the Interior Department, anyway?" She whined.

"I don't know, ma'am. But Texas is claiming that it's a sovereign nation, so it falls under your authority."

Squaring her shoulders and seating herself, Elizabeth resigned herself to the task at hand. "Fine. Get me the governor. Or their president. Or whoever is in charge of Texas at the moment." She added as an afterthought, "And find out precisely what the Secretary of the Interior does."

"Yes, ma'am." Nadine nodded and left the room, glad that her boss hadn't completely exploded. It was definitely an annoying thing to have to deal with, but when it came down to it, Nadine knew the Secretary would always get things done. Even if her methods were unorthodox and she wasn't the most friendly person. Secretary Adams definitely maintained a cool exterior. Not rude or uncaring, but it was clear that she was self-sufficient.

Nadine mused that Secretary Marsh had been much more approachable. He had wanted company and friends. Secretary Adams was much more matter of fact about social relationships. She was distant for the most part – had her own way of doing things. If she hadn't been so good at her job, people would have resented her. They still resented her, but after nearly two years in office, they knew she was qualified. Qualified or not, no one would be running to Secretary Adams for sympathy anytime soon. No one would be offering it, either.

* * *

"Governor… You can't secede. You realize you'd have to set up your own international trade agreements? And I could make that very difficult for you." She spoke plainly. All of this was straightforward, no way to get around it.

Elizabeth tried to keep her tone commanding instead of exasperated. She wasn't sure how much success she was having. If only the person on the other end of the phone weren't being such a pain...

A drawling voice spoke condescendingly. "Typical Washington obstructionism…"

"Well if you don't want me to freeze all of your financial assets, you're going to have to work with me."

She hadn't had much concession in getting the governor to listen to her. He just spoke at her in quips and soundbytes with that deep Texas drawl. She had mentally nicknamed him Drawl because he seemed to luxuriate in the difference between their accents.

The governor hated everything about Secretary Adams and her New York education and her DC office. He thought the only true Americans were those who lived under the thumb of the government. The Washingtonian elites had no idea what life was like where people loved God and neighbor. Their values were completely different. There was nothing the Secretary could do to make him like her. He had already written her off because she was part of the establishment.

Elizabeth heard the drawl come again. "Texas won't put up with this. I'm sorry you won't support the Republic of Texas. We coulda kept selling y'all beef, but we can take our business elsewhere. Hope you weren't attached to your American hamburgers. Maybe Canada will trade with you."

With that, he hung up.

"Blake!" She yelled.

The young man came running in. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Get Nadine in here. And call Henry and cancel my lunch." It was not a trade Elizabeth wanted to make, her chief of staff for her boyfriend, but she didn't have a choice. She had to do her job. She had really been looking forward to lunch with Henry, though. It would have relaxed her. Instead, she was on edge and harried about the situation with Texas. She realized if she wanted to be able to keep a cool head, she'd probably need to cut at some point.

"Right away."

He scurried off and nearly ran into Nadine as he was hurrying to get her.

"She wants to see you in her office. I take it the call to the governor did not go well."

"Well, I doubt she's going to like what I have to say..."

Nadine left Blake in the hall and made her way to the Secretary's office. She had Jay in tow. When they got into the office, the Secretary didn't look up. She was standing behind her desk, looking out the window. "Ma'am, we have a development. Mexico is stationing armed troops along the border. Their ambassador says they are merely taking precautionary measures against a rogue state."

Elizabeth sunk in her chair. "Oh god. You have _got_ to be kidding me. War with Mexico?" She flashed a glance at Nadine in disbelief.

"Well, ma'am, we could always let Mexico take Texas back..." She said facetiously.

"You have no idea how tempting that is right now." She took a breath, wanting the craziness to stop. "Get me satellite images of the Mexicans. Get DIA and Defense Security to get us information about targets and weapons capability in Texas. I need information about the situation on the ground. We need to know precisely who is in control of Texas's guns. Because their governor is not going to take time to deliberate..."

"Ma'am, even if we find out who is in charge of the government guns in Texas, I hate to point out that there are also a lot of private guns, too." Jay spoke up from the corner. She hadn't noticed him. Somehow her mind had been focused on other things.

"Yeah." She said distractedly. The situation was getting too complex. She needed to be able to concentrate, and her thoughts were racing unhelpfully. She needed to cut. "Have DIA and FBI get into it. Copy Russell Jackson's office on all of this, too. If this situation gets out of hand, we can't leave the president blindsided."

Nadine could tell they had been dismissed. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

In her bathroom, Elizabeth grazed the blade across her skin, making thin cuts. Some were so shallow they barely broke the skin at all. She enjoyed focusing on the action of cutting. She wanted to take some time with it so she wouldn't have to focus on Texas. Without an idea of how to solve the situation, it was easier to cut.

She heard a knock on her office door. It sounded like Nadine had just walked right in because her voice came through the bathroom door and it sounded unnervingly close.

"Madam Secretary?"

 _Oh shit._ "I'll be out in a minute, Nadine." She hurried, trying to sound normal. _People go to the bathroom. Nothing weird about it. Play it cool._

"That's fine, Ma'am." Nadine called as she sat down, waiting for her boss.

Elizabeth breathed. Her cutting session was over. She needed to clean up quickly and make sure she was presentable. She couldn't have spots of blood showing or anything like that.

Normally, she took her time disinfecting her cuts and bandaging them. With Nadine waiting for her, she knew she'd only have a minute or two to do all that before Nadine got suspicious. If only she had cut on her arm so all she would have had to do would be to slide her sleeve down. She had been cutting on her leg, so she had to wrap her leg in gauze and then carefully slide on her pants and adjust everything to make sure there wasn't a bulge.

Once she was satisfied that Nadine wouldn't notice, she exited the bathroom and moved quickly to her desk.

Nadine looked up from the briefing she was reading. Her boss hadn't peppered her with questions, as was her usual style. Secretary Adams was just sitting there staring at her lap.

"Ma'am?"

The Secretary seemed to shake herself from a daze, Nadine noticed.

"Yeah. What is it?" Elizabeth's voice was blank, lacking her usual authority.

"The federal judges in Texas have signed a letter saying…" She began but stopped when she saw her boss holding her head in one hand, eyes closed.

"Ma'am? …Would you like me to give you a few minutes?" Nadine asked carefully.

"Huh? Oh, sure. Thank you." Elizabeth muttered, not looking up.

Nadine gathered her papers and left the office, thinking about what she had just observed. She knew better than to meddle in her boss's affairs. It wasn't her job to pry. And there had been plenty of other times she'd seen the Secretary act like that. She hadn't noticed it before Iran, but after Iran, she had certainly noticed the Secretary occasionally acting distant. Not that international diplomacy had ever been jeopardized, but Nadine could tell something was up.

Glancing down at her watch, deciding to give the Secretary twenty minutes, Nadine chalked up the behavior to general fatigue. Nothing out of the ordinary for someone who worked the kind of hours the Secretary did.

Elizabeth sat in her office, riding the endorphin high she got from cutting. She knew she should be worried that Nadine might start suspecting her secret. Nadine was a resourceful woman, and Elizabeth certainly didn't want her digging around asking questions. But at the moment, she just couldn't care about anything. She felt blessedly stoic, impartial, and unaffected. Nadine didn't matter, really. At the end of the day, Nadine had to do what Elizabeth told her to do. Even Texas didn't matter. No matter what happened, Elizabeth and her DC townhouse would be fine. She would be fine as long as she still had tools to cut herself.

* * *

Later, Nadine sat in the Secretary's office, trying to convince her to see reason. "Ma'am, Jay and I really don't think you should go."

Elizabeth was trying to convince them that the only way she could talk sense into the governor was to fly down to Austin and demand a meeting.

Jay agreed with Nadine. "It gives them legitimacy. And if they refuse to see you, it makes you look ineffective. It could backfire. Besides, apparently the governor is at some kind of party."

Elizabeth was incredulous. Her endorphin high had worn off, and she was starting to feel the angry indignation again. "He's at a party? He just seceded from the union, became a traitor to his country, and he's at a party?"

"An independence day party… Ma'am." Nadine clarified.

"Oh, I don't have time for this." She scoffed, pacing around her office, feeling the slight tug on her cuts each time she extended her leg.

Blake came in the office where Jay and Nadine were discussing the situation with Elizabeth.

"Yes, Blake?" Elizabeth spoke over their heads to her assistant.

"Ma'am, you wanted to know what the Secretary of the Interior does?"

"Oh, right." She laughed. Their earlier conversation seemed like it had happened weeks ago, and it had only been that morning. "Yes, Blake. Please educate us all."

Blake looked around the room nervously. He wasn't usually in the position of briefing anyone. And none of the people in the room looked very encouraging. "Apparently she is in charge of land and resource management. Livestock, grazing, fisheries, native affairs and education, and the national park service."

"Huh, I probably should have known that." Elizabeth stopped to think about how she had overlooked an entire cabinet level department. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she stopped her pacing.

"Blake, you said she's in charge of livestock and grazing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get her over here. She and I are flying to Austin. Get the plane ready. We're leaving as soon as she gets here."

This time, her voice was final, and her staff knew there was no point arguing. Their concerns had been heard and overridden. The Secretary would do what she would do, and no one could stop her.


	13. And we'll get lost together

Chapter 12: And we'll get lost together, 'til the light comes pouring through

* * *

"So I calmly explained that we would be imposing sanctions on Texas until they paid grazing fees for every animal in the state – or Republic – as it was until five hours ago."

"And that worked?" Henry asked over their Chinese food containers. They were sitting in Elizabeth's living room late that evening. Elizabeth hadn't even left Texas until nearly 5pm, and then there was still a nearly three-hour flight back to DC.

"Yeah. I got the Secretary of the Interior to explain that while Texas could claim their animals were sovereign property, up until this morning, the animals were grazed on United States property, so if they were going to take the animals, we were owed grazing fees."

Henry scrunched up his face in thought.

"You know, babe, I'm not sure that's how grazing fees work."

"Well, it convinced the governor, and that's all we really needed." Elizabeth rolled her eyes thinking about the stunt the governor had pulled.

"So you just tricked him?"

"Well, I can't really impose sanctions by myself, but he didn't seem to know that, either."

Henry started laughing. "Oh my God. I can't believe that worked. You're amazing." He pecked her cheek, making her blush with the compliment.

"That's how diplomacy happens. You just have to convince the right people that you can make their lives miserable."

"That's kinda bleak." Henry grew serious, his laughter fading.

He had had his own hard day at work trying to figure out how to handle all of the weapons and classified information held in Texas. They had plenty of military bases and equipment, and it took a while to figure out what was where. Not that anyone thought they'd have to fight a war with Texas, but it wouldn't do to discover that their fighter jets were stored there. Not with Texas being so unhelpful.

Elizabeth matched Henry's mood. She certainly didn't like to think what could have happened if her little scheme hadn't worked. "Well, to be fair, the country did almost start a war with itself today."

Henry groaned. "Don't remind me. I had to spend all day figuring out what weapons they had and how much damage they could do."

Elizabeth knew he hated having to run threat analyses.

"At least it's over." She tried to reassure him. "Texas is still in the union, and Mexico stood down their troops. Just another day, right?" On the last line, her tone became teasing. It was another _stressful_ day. Elizabeth definitely had some steam to let off after all the frustration… She figured Henry probably did, too.

Not noticing her tone at all, Henry continued. "Yeah, I should probably let you get some sleep. It's late." He glanced at his watch and stood up to gather their trash.

"My brain is still running a mile a minute. I'll be up a while. You're welcome to stay." She put a hand on his arm to stop Henry from picking up the cardboard boxes and batted her eyelashes.

Finally catching on, Henry unconsciously stuck out his chest. "Oh, yeah? What did you have in mind?" Henry grinned.

If she were honest, she'd tell him she had wanted to cut herself all day. But with everything going on, she hadn't had a chance, not since that morning. That was almost worse. She had gone an entire day without cutting before, but that was when she had the chance. If she at least had the opportunity, she didn't feel trapped.

Cutting wasn't really what she wanted now, though. A few hours ago, that would have been enough. But as she looked at Henry flirting with her, she thought she just might have a solution. She needed to lose herself – forget everything for a while.

Maybe Henry could help. Maybe it would even be as good as cutting.

"Why don't you take me upstairs and find out?"

Elizabeth bit her lower lip with a gleam in her eye. It may have been years since she had seduced anyone, but that didn't mean she had forgotten.

Henry didn't have to be asked twice. If he hadn't promised Elizabeth dumplings, he would have gone home and gotten drunk. He knew Elizabeth would need to unwind, and he wanted to be available for her, but he needed to relax, too.

He let out a low growl and quickly wrapped his arms around her waist. She was so tiny. He felt powerful being able to wrap his arms around her easily. It was a turn on, and his body was feeling the effects of his arousal. He began kissing her neck feverishly. He was on a mission. His trail of kisses went straight to her earlobe, where he began to suck lightly. He felt Elizabeth melt in his arms at that move, and he smiled to himself. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to see her come apart. He wanted to see her – all of her – at her most beautiful.

Elizabeth raked her hands through Henry's short hair. It was stiff at the ends, but silky. The texture reminded her that Henry was military – through and through. If he wanted to throw her down like a sack of potatoes, he could. She had always enjoyed the thrill of submitting to raw strength. There was something exciting about having her senses overwhelmed. They weren't to the main act, yet, and she was already nearly intoxicated by Henry's presence. Rational thought left her as she was reduced to a single want – a single need. She had never had the kind of toe-curling sex she saw in movies, but she had also never had sex with someone she could see herself spending the rest of her life with. She was ready to let Henry take her places she had never been before.

She let him pull her into his embrace, welcoming the contact. When Henry began to nip at her earlobe and suck at the sensitive spot just behind her ear, she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him take her weight. She felt his arm and back muscles ripple enticingly under her fingers.

Henry held Elizabeth to him, most of her weight held by her legs around his waist. He carried her upstairs, trying not to drop her. Elizabeth was so busy kissing any uncovered skin she could find, she probably barely even noticed they had moved from the living room. She was lost in a haze of unrestrained lust. She had wanted to kiss Henry like this for what felt like far too long. But so far, she had let common sense and reason stop her. Not tonight. Tonight she was going to have him – finally.

Henry didn't have any complaints, by any means. If this was what Elizabeth wanted, he would be more than happy to give it to her. He felt her hands roaming, working at the buttons of his shirt, ripping off his tie – anything to let her feel more of his skin. Her fingers got diverted in playing with his crisp chest hair. When he turned the corner into her bedroom, he accidentally jostled her a bit, and she gripped his bicep to steady herself. She squeezed his muscles, feeling the bulk of them, and moaned into his mouth, grinding her hips against his groin. Henry loved that she was so lost in the sensation. They had barely gotten upstairs, and she was already ready. He could feel the wet heat radiating from her center.

Elizabeth wanted, almost more than anything, to have sex with Henry. As soon as she got upstairs, though, thoughts started occurring to her. She'd have to take her clothes off. Henry would be able to see her scars… She tried to remember if she had any open cuts that weren't covered by bandages. _Probably not._ She had learned pretty quickly that it was easier to wrap some gauze around her cuts than to have them bleed through her clothes. But even so, would he be disgusted by the idea of having sex with someone covered in bandages?

Even if the bandages hid all her open cuts, Elizabeth made the executive decision that the lights would be staying off.

"You sure you want this?" Henry broke her from her reverie. He let her legs fall to the floor and pressed her up against the bed.

She nodded and quickly pushed his shirt off of him. His naked chest brought her back to the moment. She _did_ want this. There was no doubt about that. Elizabeth could feel her panties were soaked from their earlier flirting. It was uncomfortable. She hoped Henry would take them off her soon.

"Alright, babe. Lay back for me." Henry pushed her gently onto the bed and began to undo the button on her slacks.

"Henry…" She hesitated slightly as he tried to slide her pants off.

"Yeah?" He queried, looking up at her.

"There are… scars… I don't want to freak you out." She almost whispered the words, hoping she wouldn't ruin the moment.

He slid up her body and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. He tried to show her with his kiss that he already knew. It would take a lot to surprise him, and he had expected scars. Henry was prepared.

"You aren't gonna scare me, baby. Don't worry." Whispering sensually in her ear, he once again began to massage the sensitive spot behind her ear with his tongue. He felt her sink into the bed, relaxing under his weight.

She nodded, distracted by his attention, but she was still worried. He said that before he had seen how bad some of the scars were. Her biggest fear in the moment was Henry seeing her scars and becoming too disgusted to have sex with her.

Henry slid back down to work on the button of her slacks. They could both tell what was coming next. He wanted to be a gentleman since it was their first time. His motives weren't entirely pure, though. He hadn't felt more than a couple twitches downstairs, and he hoped if he went down on Elizabeth, it would give him some time to get aroused. Mentally, he felt completely ready. He had had fantasies of sleeping with Elizabeth since she came back from Algeria having successfully removed an autocrat. Somehow, his body just needed a few minutes to catch up.

He pulled her pants down, noting that she had some bandages wrapped around her legs in several places. He tried to ignore it for Elizabeth's sake. She seemed a little self-conscious. It may be for the best, he thought, that her scars were covered by bandages. Although he knew that she would have scars, he didn't want to react and upset her. It was one thing to know she had scars; it was another to see the physical evidence of her pain. The bandages would allow him to ignore the scars and focus on making her feel good.

Elizabeth was wet and ready, and Henry was glad to see it. It would help. He hadn't had sex in years, and he had never been particularly confident, anyway. He removed his own pants as quickly as he could, leaving him naked. Elizabeth still had her blouse on, but Henry thought it was almost sexier that way. She looked like she could still be at work, aside from the fact that she was naked from the waist down. As Henry got back in position, he hoped Elizabeth hadn't noticed that his penis was still flaccid.

Elizabeth wasn't sure how much longer she could stay present. It was distracting to keep wondering if Henry would notice her scars. What if he felt them and freaked out? Would he just leave? She could feel herself becoming less aroused, but she hoped she could get back into it. She wanted it so much, she would try anything. Right now, she needed Henry's mouth on her. She could feel his breath hot against her most sensitive area, and it was almost too tantalizing to resist.

"Now, Henry. I need you." She panted.

Henry parted her labia and ran his tongue up and down slowly, trying to get a feel for it. It had been more than twenty years since he had done this, and he was probably out of practice. It wasn't unpleasant, though. He heard Elizabeth make a little grunt of pleasure when he touched her clitoris, but after that, she was silent.

Hands gripping her hips, he tilted her towards him so he could get a better angle. His fingers could feel raised lines of tougher skin, but in the dark, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. It didn't really bother him, Elizabeth having scars. Since she had said something earlier, and he could tell she was self-conscious about the scars, he tried to pull her shirt down to cover the scars he had felt on her hips. He had scars, too. Everyone did. The only difference was hers were self-inflicted. Henry didn't know if that made much difference to him or not. He could figure that out later. Right now, he had more pressing things to focus on.

It was exciting to get to touch Elizabeth intimately. Most of the time, she wasn't one to share things freely, but that was to be expected after she had lived alone for the better part of thirty years. Tonight, though, getting to stroke her in the most intimate way possible, Henry felt that he had crossed some kind of line. She was willing to let him put his mouth on her – consume her in a way. The smell of her arousal overwhelmed him. The silky feel of her skin beneath his tongue and the hidden folds in her sex made him feel as if he had gained access to a great treasure. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as she could handle, and then just a little bit more.

As his tongue gently laved her clitoris, he couldn't help but feel that Elizabeth was losing interest. She wasn't making as much noise, and she had stopped moving around as much. He didn't have any frame of reference to know if this was normal for her, and it had been so long since he'd slept with anyone that he couldn't really compare her to anyone else. He wondered if he was doing something wrong. Maybe she wanted more pressure. He wanted to ask, but he couldn't very well with his mouth full.

Henry's own situation was starting to improve. He could feel himself hardening a bit. If he got ready to penetrate her, he'd probably get fully hard. He had to remind himself that he wasn't exactly young anymore – it was normal for things to slow down a bit. At 55, he could feel his body starting to protest his long hours sitting at work and, if he were honest with himself, his hangovers were no where as easy as they had been the few times he had gotten them when he was in his twenties.

Elizabeth realized she wasn't making any noise, and Henry seemed to be getting less sure of himself. She was determined to make it work, so when Henry began alternating between short, tantalizing flicks and long, deep suction to her clit, she cried out. Even as she did it, though, she could feel herself drying out. She knew if she couldn't get back into it, it would be pretty uncomfortable when Henry tried to penetrate her.

Pleased with himself that he had found what Elizabeth liked, Henry thought he was finally ready to move on to the next phase. He kissed his way up her still clothed stomach. He pulled her blouse down to expose her breasts. With only a couple buttons undone, he could get access push her bra down and latch onto her nipple to suck.

Elizabeth held the sides of his head as he lavished her breasts. It felt good, but it wasn't helping her get back in the mood. She was too worried. Even if her scars didn't disgust Henry, they bothered her. How could she be beautiful or sexy if she were covered in scars? And then there were the open cuts... How could Henry, as good as he was, want to have sex with her? If Henry had any good judgment when it came to women, he wouldn't be sleeping with her. They'd known each other only about three months...

She pulled Henry's head up to her, hoping he could kiss away her anxiety. She could tell he was trying to make everything perfect for her, and his soothing lips against hers did slow the racing thoughts in her head, but it wasn't enough. Taking a quick stock, she could feel that she was nowhere near wet enough to accept Henry. Despair started to settle in her stomach as she realized sex would not be happening. Her sadness turned to shame when she realized that Henry was preparing himself to enter her. She watched him position his penis for insertion.

Henry held himself, pleased that he was finally almost hard enough to have proper sex with his girlfriend. He was still a little soft, but he figured he would be fine once they started. This was their first time, and he desperately wanted it to be good. Now that he was finally ready, he could hardly think about anything else. It would have been so embarrassing to have to explain to Elizabeth that while he would love to have sex with her, he just couldn't get his penis to cooperate.

As he tried to penetrate her, there were multiple things hindering his progress. His penis wasn't quite hard enough to penetrate her. He could also tell they were lacking lubrication. He reached his fingers down, thinking he needed to massage her a bit to get the juices flowing again. When he felt her, though, he could tell that she was no longer swollen with arousal. She had dried out quickly, and it was clear she was not aroused.

"I'm sorry." She offered, unable to look at him. Tears began to stream into the pillow beneath her head.

Henry leaned his head back and tried not to groan out loud. He didn't want to humiliate Elizabeth, but he was disappointed. It hurt his ego in a way he hadn't been expecting. He hadn't been able to keep her aroused. When he was stimulating her, she was fine, but the second he stopped, she had lost all interest. She must not feel the same way about him that he felt about her, he reasoned. That was really the only explanation.

Even though he could feel himself quickly losing what erection he had been able to get, Henry gave it one last chance. "It's okay. Let me just get..." He spit into his hand and tried to use it as lube.

"No, Henry." Elizabeth pulled her legs up to her chest, backing away from him.

He sighed and sat back at the foot of the bed. He had to resign himself to the fact that their first attempt at sex had failed miserably. First, he hadn't managed to get an erection, and then he hadn't been able to keep Elizabeth interested. She must have noticed he couldn't get an erection. Maybe it was such a turnoff that she had changed her mind about wanting to have sex with him.

Elizabeth sat against the headboard, knees pulled up to her chest, trying not to cry. She thought Henry must have felt the scars on her legs and hips. That must have been why he couldn't get hard. Maybe he just didn't think she was attractive. He may not have even wanted to have sex, she realized. She hadn't given him much of a choice. She just assumed he would want to have sex with her. That was probably pretty conceited, now that she thought about it. Not everyone would want to have sex with a 50-year-old woman who never had time to work out.

She felt completely humiliated. It was all her fault. She had initiated it, and it had been terrible. What kind of woman was she that she didn't even check that her partner was interested? What kind of woman was she for jumping in bed the second the urge struck her?

Half an hour ago, having sex with Henry sounded like the most magical thing that could exist in the world. Part of her had thought that sex would convince her that their relationship was worth it. She loved Henry, but the idea of a relationship was scary. Henry had issues, and she had issues of her own. Elizabeth wanted to work through all that, but she needed reassurance that there was something easy about the relationship. If their relationship was going to be all work all the time, she wasn't sure if she had the energy for it. Their dates so far had been good – really good. But they had been dating as friends.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what the difference was between friends and lovers, other than sex. She didn't just want to be friends with Henry. She wanted to be his lover, but she didn't know what that meant. Sex had seemed like the obvious answer. If they weren't able to have mind-blowing sex, could they still be committed lovers? She didn't know the answer to that. The questions assaulted her mind, giving her only worry and anxiety.

She tried to comfort herself with the thought that at least Henry hadn't run away screaming at the sight of her bandages. He must have felt some of her scars, and he hadn't said anything. He was probably just being polite, but it made her feel a little better. She wasn't sure what reaction she had been expecting, but it could have been worse.

Henry could see Elizabeth brooding, but he didn't have the energy to try to talk to her. He hadn't had sex in so long, and this had gone so badly... It was completely demoralizing. If he couldn't do something as simple as get an erection, maybe he wasn't ready for a real relationship. Elizabeth was clearly a woman in touch with her sexuality, and if he couldn't meet her needs, she had plenty of options to seek company elsewhere. If she were as smart as he thought she was, she would realize pretty quickly that she was too good for him. She was vivacious and funny – a magnet that drew success to her, and Henry only drove people away. Maybe she already knew that. It might even be the reason she decided she didn't want to have sex. His father had known there was something about him that made him incapable of having a real relationship. Maybe Elizabeth had seen the same thing.

The thoughts roiling through Elizabeth's mind were becoming unbearable. She could feel her breath grow short and her skin start to tingle oddly. It seemed that her body was too whole, too perfect. Her skin couldn't contain the chaos within her. Something needed to break into the churning thoughts and emotions that seemed like they would overtake her any second.

She rose from her spot on the bed. Cutting was the only thing that would help. She had blades in the bathroom. If she could just slip in quickly, maybe she could get ahead of this before it got too bad.

Henry noticed a change in Elizabeth. Her face only seconds ago had been full of emotion and disappointment, just as he imagined his own would be. Quickly, though, she had hardened and set her jaw in determination. He could easily deduce what she was thinking. She couldn't handle what had just happened, so she was going to hurt herself. He had seen her that cold and uncaring before, and he was determined that he would not be the cause of it.

"No. Elizabeth, stop." He grabbed her arm quickly and pulled her back to the bed.

"Henry, I just want to go to the bathroom. Let me go." Her voice was too calm.

"You're going to go in there and cut yourself. But you don't need to. Let me help. I'm here." He tried to keep from pleading.

"I'm not gonna cut." She looked towards the bathroom, trying to get away from Henry.

He could hear her voice falter slightly. If he hadn't had training to recognize lies and deception, he would have missed it.

He spoke sternly, "Don't lie to me, Elizabeth."

She glanced at him, shaken from her hardened façade. She hadn't meant to lie to him. It brought a wave of shame over her. Henry deserved better. After all, only a few short weeks ago, she had been the one to chastise him about putting their relationship in jeopardy by not talking to her.

Unable to look Henry in the eye, she nodded and hung her head in apology.

"Come on. It's okay. Even if sex didn't work, I can still help, okay?" He got up and put on his boxers and undershirt. He opened her top dresser drawer, hoping it contained underwear. It did, and he brought her a clean pair of panties to wear.

Elizabeth slid on the panties without comment. She stood in the middle of the room like a lost child. She let Henry lead her back to bed, when all she wanted to do was lock herself in the bathroom and cut.

"It's okay, Elizabeth. It's gonna be okay." He settled himself on the bed and tried to encourage her to join him. He thought she looked like a baby bird.

When he was little, a family of birds had made a nest in the tree in his backyard, but the adult birds had disappeared. Probably eaten by something bigger, he thought now. When the eggs had hatched, Henry and Shane had spent days trying to coax the hatchlings to take some birdseed from their hands. The birds would approach them slowly – unbearably slowly for young boys. And the second one of them moved, the birds would get scared and dart back to the tree.

Elizabeth looked like she would dart back to the tree if he scared her. Except her tree wasn't safe. To her, it was, but to Henry, her cutting herself was fraught with sadness. He still didn't understand how a woman as amazing as her could feel so alone and scared that she needed to hurt herself. He wanted to take her pain away, make her feel safe and happy enough that she didn't need to cut.

Looking at Henry, at how steady he was, Elizabeth decided to trust him. She wasn't quite used to letting Henry hold and cuddle her, but she had to admit that it felt nice. Maybe it could help tonight. It was worth a try.

She nodded at Henry, acknowledging his support. Tears started to come to her, making her throat thick and her vision blurry. The tumultuous emotions inside her were starting to escape now that she knew she wouldn't be cutting anytime soon. Seeing Henry in front of her, ready to comfort her, even though only minutes before she had been unable to have sex with him... She had flirted with him and teased him, but then she hadn't been able to follow through. But Henry was still there. He still wanted to help her.

All of it made her cry – the stress of the day, the feelings of failure and embarrassment at their attempt at sex, and the inability to cut. She let Henry pull her into his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hiding her face against him.

Henry settled Elizabeth against himself. He adjusted her legs so they were across his own, and then he wrapped an arm around her upper back. He could feel her shuddering with her sobs. When he had been imagining his night, he had not anticipated this being the ending. He stroked Elizabeth's hair tenderly, trying to make her feel his love for her. She sunk deeper into him, letting him take more of her weight. Henry accepted it gratefully. Her body was warm and soft against his, and it felt good to be able to hold her, even if it were while she cried. So many times, he felt that he couldn't be there for her when she fought her demons. But tonight, he could keep her from feeling so alone.

It took Elizabeth the better part of an hour to cry herself out. By the end of it, her face was tight and stuffy, her throat was raw, and her chest was sore. She could feel Henry's gentle, massaging fingers along the muscles on either side of her spine. It felt heavenly.

"You okay, baby?" Henry whispered, still cradling her head against his chest.

"Yeah. I'm just so tired." She whispered, hoarse from her crying.

"Why don't you get some sleep? It's been a long day," he said before kissing her on the forehead.

"Will you stay?" She looked up at him with red eyes and tears stains on her face. If she were being honest, she wasn't sure if she would be able to get to sleep with Henry still there, but she didn't want to break the spell that had fallen over them. After wanting to cut all day, she finally felt okay. In Henry's arms, she felt just as calm as she did after she cut. It had taken a long time, but he had managed to soothe the out-of-control feeling that scared her so much.

There was really no way Henry could say no.

"I'll stay, baby. Just sleep." He helped her get settled and then curled around behind her, spooning her.

"Henry... Thanks for tonight. For calming me down."

"Well, if I just wish I could have made you feel better with the sex. I'm sorry I couldn't... I'm sorry that didn't work."

"That wasn't your fault. I just couldn't stay in the moment. I was too worried about you seeing my scars, I guess."

"Elizabeth, I know you've got scars. I'm not going to leave you if I see a scar, okay?" He knew they couldn't solve everything in one night, but he needed her to know that he wasn't going to run the second things got uncomfortable.

She spoke regretfully. "I guess I know that. Maybe it was just too soon to have sex. As much as I wanted it."

Henry agreed. "You might be right. This was rushed. We weren't doing it because we wanted to make love. We were stressed out and I think we both brought that stress into it. And that definitely didn't work."

"No. It didn't." She muttered.

Elizabeth was quiet for a minute. She hadn't had sex since before she had gone to Iraq more than ten years ago. She didn't think it would matter to Henry... While he was going down on her, she hadn't been thinking about what happened in Iraq, but she thought about it now. Maybe she hadn't ever gotten over what happened there. Henry deserved to know that it wasn't his fault she had frozen up. She thought about telling him exactly what had happened there. It would feel good to get it off her chest. But tonight wasn't the night. She didn't even know how to start that conversation. They were both too exhausted, and it just wouldn't be fair to Henry to drop that on him without warning.

"But maybe at some point we can try again. When we're ready." This time, her words were hopeful.

Henry kissed her tenderly. "Yeah, babe. We'll try again when we're ready. Now get some sleep."

Elizabeth nodded and readjusted herself into a more comfortable position. She had been angling her head back so Henry could hear her, but it wasn't very comfortable to try to sleep like that. Relaxing into his arms, she let out a breath, hoping she would be able to get to sleep. The ghost of Iraq still haunted her, and she hadn't slept in front of a man since her time there. But with Henry, it was different, or at least she hoped it would be. She knew he loved her and he'd never hurt her. He had just spent over an hour holding her and quieting her fears.

She waited for unconsciousness to take her, but it remained elusive. Her body relaxed, but her mind stayed on alert. She wasn't anxious, by any means, but she was also not going to fall asleep. Her mind was determined to stay awake in case she had to defend herself.

Henry rubbed her arm, aware that she was still awake. He figured she might have a little trouble getting to sleep, knowing she probably cut most nights. However, he hoped that sheer exhaustion and sleep-deprivation would win over eventually. They had both had incredibly long and trying days.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, Henry felt Elizabeth's breathing even out. Her face lost its tension, and he knew she was drifting off.

Elizabeth tried to regulate her breathing in imitation of sleep. She knew Henry was staying awake because she was awake. He still had a protective arm over her ribs, feeling her respiration. She didn't want to keep him up, knowing she might never get to sleep. It wasn't Henry's fault she was irrationally afraid of sleeping in front of men. He hadn't done anything wrong. Besides, he had his own job to go to in only a few short hours. He needed his sleep just as much as she did.

Henry relaxed, when he felt Elizabeth relax into sleep. Giving it a few additional minutes to make sure she didn't wake up, he slipped out of the bed, making as little noise as possible. Somehow, it didn't feel right to sleep in her bed when he hadn't been able to have sex with her – not properly anyway, he thought.

Besides, he had other plans for tonight, and Elizabeth couldn't witness that.

When Elizabeth felt Henry leave, she tried not to feel relieved that she would actually be able to sleep without him there. She tried to convince herself that he wasn't going home to drink. She was so tired and drained; she just didn't have the energy to stop him. If she had stopped him, they would have just had to talk more. And tonight, she was done talking.

And now that Henry was gone, she was free to cut if she needed to.

* * *

"Goodnight, Frank." Henry said automatically as he exited the townhouse.

"Goodnight, Dr. McCord." Came the standard reply.

There was no emotion in Frank's words. Nothing to indicate any particular interest in Henry McCord leaving the Secretary's house at four in the morning.

Henry didn't know if he had been expecting any recrimination or judgment from Frank, but he certainly felt it from himself.

It didn't matter. There was plenty of whiskey in his apartment, and when he got home, he could try to forget this night ever happened. He'd just have to be careful because he had to be at work soon… He could see the first gray light of dawn starting to creep across the sky.


	14. But I've never felt a cut so deep

Chapter 13: But I've never felt a cut so deep

* * *

"Ma'am, the president wants you in the Sit Room."

Elizabeth had barely set her bag down on her desk when Blake rushed into her office first thing that morning. She had wanted a moment to prepare herself for the day, but that was not to be. There were still a lot of unprocessed emotions lingering from the night before. She didn't regret what she and Henry did – not exactly. Mostly, she blamed herself for rushing in, for not responding, for not being what he deserved… But right now she had to do her job.

"Okay… you got the…"

Blake finished her sentence. "Motorcade's right outside."

"Right. Guess they didn't have a long way to go since I just walked in..." She shot Blake a look before reminding herself that it wasn't his fault she hadn't had a second to breathe before the day started.

* * *

"Bess, we've got confirmed reports of Disah's location in Pakistan. I want to send in Murphy Station to take him out. We need to get him out of action before the situation deteriorates any more. What do you think?"

President Dalton posed the question to her as she was walking into the Sit Room. It was nothing she couldn't handle. But at the mention of deploying Murphy Station, her stress level went up uncomfortably.

"Murphy Station? Why not a SEAL team? They don't have training for an on-the-ground mission." She tried to keep her voice from being high pitched and breathy, but she didn't think she was quite successful.

The president took no notice of the strain on Elizabeth's face or the odd tone of her voice. "They'll be working from inside the embassy, directing our assets on the ground. We can get Murphy Station in with a diplomatic cover." He explained everything simply, without emotion. After all, he wasn't dating a member of Murphy Station. He had no reason to be emotionally invested. His decision was a purely rational one.

Elizabeth tried to think through the situation as if Henry wouldn't be in any danger. She guessed it made sense to send in Murphy Station. They had more intel experience than a SEAL team. "So you're sending in Jane and Jose…" She silently hoped Henry could stay home…

"And Henry. He knows HS's mission and ideology top to bottom. And we're going to need that knowledge."

"Yeah." Her mind was reeling. She knew Henry would never turn down a request from Conrad to go, and there was really no reason she could convince Conrad not to send in Murphy Station.

"Is there a problem?"

The president must have finally noticed the stiff way Elizabeth was standing with her arms crossed over herself, almost defensively. She hadn't taken a seat, unable to be the one to send Henry to Pakistan. If that decision were going to be made, it wouldn't be at her initiative.

"No. No problem. I'm just worried about security." She muttered, trying to be convincing.

Conrad tried to calm her apparent anxiety. "We can't send in a huge team with them or it'll make it obvious they're not a diplomatic team. But we'll give them as much security as we can."

She was still nervous. "Hasn't the embassy been getting a lot of protests?"

"We'll handle it, Bess. Henry will be fine." President Dalton gave her a firm look. He didn't need her losing focus and objectivity.

Conrad called her bluff. It apparently hadn't taken long for him to hear in passing that his Secretary of State was dating someone in Murphy Station.

Elizabeth blushed, slightly embarrassed that Conrad had so easily figured her out.

"Okay. I can't foresee any problems diplomatically." She nodded, not offering any more objections.

"Don't worry, Bess. We'll bring them back home safe." Conrad gave her a small smile of sympathy.

* * *

"It's a diplomatic cover… take a suit." She didn't want him to go, but if he was going to go, she didn't want him to mess up something so obvious.

Henry was packing his bag, and Elizabeth was leaning against the wall next to the closet in Henry's apartment.

He pulled a suit off the rack and held it out for her approval. She nodded.

Elizabeth stood quietly, unconsciously fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. Henry noticed.

"You gonna be okay while I'm gone?" He looked pointedly at her wrist.

Pulling herself together, she nodded affirmatively. "Why wouldn't I be?" She forced herself to smile.

Walking over to her and massaging her shoulders, Henry looked seriously into her eyes. "You can tell me not to go, you know. I'll let Jose and Jane handle it." He started kissing her, trying to placate her – get her attention on something else.

"I say this with love…" She let him continue kissing her. "But that's such a load of crap, and you know it."

If there was anything Elizabeth knew about Henry, it was that he didn't back down from his duty. She continued, "We both know you're going."

"This isn't a personal crusade, babe. You know I'd never purposefully put myself in danger." He reassured her.

She looked at him sternly. "Conrad wants you working from inside the embassy. That's what's gonna let me sleep at night. So tell me you're gonna respect that."

"Of course." He said, giving her another kiss.

He had replied too quickly and too casually for Elizabeth's liking. She nodded, willing her tears not to fall.

"Okay. Let me give you a ride to the airport?" She wanted to hold onto him for just a little bit longer…

Henry grinned. He assumed Elizabeth must be feeling better. "Now how can I turn that down?"

* * *

"Ma'am, call from the embassy in Islamabad."

"Thanks, Blake." Elizabeth spoke into the intercom. She picked up her phone and was relieved to hear Henry's voice.

"Hi, babe. We made it. You should see the mosques. They're beautiful."

"As long as you're safe." She sniffed slightly as she felt a wave of emotion wash over her. Henry was safe. At least for now. That was all she needed.

"Jane and I are shut in here, and we're not leaving. Jose is talking to his friend trying to sell HS some burner phones."

"And then you're gonna hand all that intel over to the ops team." She reminded him, pointedly.

Henry patiently teased her, trying to tell her that he understood her anxiety and was staying safe. "Now we're just repeating briefings to each other."

"I just want verbal confirmation that all of the dangerous stuff is going to be done…"

"By the ops team. Verbally confirmed." He was tired of going over the details again, but he softened when he realized how scared Elizabeth must be to nag him. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little." She left out the part about having to cut twice in the middle of the night to get her mind off her fear about what could happen to Henry. "You?"

"Not much." He replied honestly. "Hey, Jose is back, give me a second." Henry held the phone to his neck and spoke to Jose.

"Did they buy the phones already?"

"Yes, but I heard they're buying a very powerful explosive device, and the purchase is going to happen in a few minutes. If we can get eyes on it, we can follow HS back to the operations center and Disah. Who's that?" Jose gestured to the phone in Henry's hand.

Henry spoke into the phone again. "Here, I'm putting you on speaker."

Elizabeth went back into work mode. "Jose, this is the Secretary of State."

"Very good ma'am. You catch all that?"

"Yeah, but tell me what HS wants with a bomb in Pakistan. Pakistan has done nothing but help HS."

"I don't know, ma'am, but I'm going to let you all figure that one out. I'm going to go get eyes on our terrorists." Jose was on a mission. He had always been a nuts and bolts guy. He wanted to get things done.

"Henry, I need to let the president know about this. Stay in touch and let me and Russell know when you've got more."

"Will do."

Elizabeth disconnected the line and called the President. If she had had a choice, though, she never would have let Henry off the phone knowing HS was buying a bomb anywhere close to him.

* * *

Elizabeth's secure phone rang that night. She checked the screen and realized it was Henry.

"I'm here. I'm here. What is it? Are you okay?" She hadn't been asleep at all. Henry's shirt hung loosely from her shoulders. It was one of the only things she could do that gave her a lasting measure of comfort. Cutting only worked for about an hour…

Henry didn't have time to calm her down, even though it sent a pang through his heart to hear how frantic she was. "Did Pakistan give the US access to track its nuclear weapons?"

"What? Where are you getting that?"

"The Foreign Minister posted it on Twitter."

"Oh, my god." Elizabeth could feel her breath getting short, but she quickly squashed her panic, knowing that she had a job to do. She had to be professional. That panic could wait.

"We think HS is making a play to take over Pakistan. The public is starting to demonstrate in the streets. Anti-government and anti-American stuff…"

"Henry, I have to go to the White House."

"Elizabeth, people are going crazy. Is it true?" He needed to know.

"I can't tell you. I have to go. I'll call you back. I love you."

As she put down the phone, every muscle in her body screamed against her. She wanted to keep Henry close, but she didn't have a choice. She had to leave him to his own devices for the time being. Getting to the White House with the new information was more important.

* * *

When the President gave the order to evacuate the embassy in Islamabad, Elizabeth's first call was to Henry to make sure he would be ready to get on the helicopter. She needed him to get on that helicopter. Even if she had to be professional and pretend she didn't play favorites when it came to operatives, of course Henry was special.

"There's a Chinook coming for you. It should be there in less than an hour."

"We'll be ready."

"Listen, Henry. I know you're gonna wanna help everyone else first, but you… I need you to come back." Tears gathered behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn't fall apart now. Besides, she hadn't managed to let him have sex with her, so how could she really feel so deeply for him? She felt stupid for being so upset, so she tried to ignore the building anxiety and tension in her stomach. It made no sense to get so distraught when their relationship wasn't serious enough to have sex…

"Baby, I'm gonna come back. Always. Now, I need to go."

She panicked for a second. She needed to say one more thing before she let him go… "Look, I knew I wasn't dating a couch potato, but… Just... Don't die on me, okay?" She pleaded. The dull anxiety in her stomach tightened.

"Copy that. I love you." Henry spoke quickly, almost distractedly.

"I love you, too." Elizabeth said quickly, but she could hear the line was already dead.

* * *

Sitting in her bathroom in her office, Elizabeth replayed her conversation with President Dalton.

 _Murphy Station stayed behind to complete the mission. They saw an opening, and we approved their move. We may never have another chance. It has to be now. They're in the field, but we're supporting them in the air._

Henry had stayed in Pakistan. He didn't come back to her like he promised. The situation was incredibly dangerous, and he might get killed… There was a real possibility. But she couldn't tell anyone how upset that made her, let alone herself. She needed to stay operational. If she lost it, there was no one who could replace her so quickly. But part of her mind was wondering if Henry had chosen to stay in Pakistan because of her. Had he not loved her enough to come back? Was she not important enough?

Maybe she wasn't. And regardless of that, she needed to pretend Henry was any other field operative. There was no way she'd be able to get through the next few days if she dwelled on how much Henry meant to her. She needed to be objective – detached. And there was one convenient way she knew to make herself feel detached.

She drew the blade she was holding across her skin and watched her skin release the weakness she could not. She could not cry the tears that were trapped inside her eyes or release the sobs hidden in her chest. But her skin could release the tears of blood that would give her the calm she needed.

* * *

In the Situation Room, Elizabeth stood with the President, Russell, and all the military commanders. They hadn't been able to get in touch with Murphy Station for hours after the evacuation of the embassy. Jose had the radio that was their only means of communication. They had satellites giving them aerial images of the area, but that didn't provide much detail. All the images showed were several black SUVs driving towards an unknown location. About all they knew beyond that was the front vehicle held Disah, and the last vehicle held Murphy Station.

But at least they had a satellite in the area to give them a visual. The video might be grainy, but it was something. It at least told them that Murphy Station was intact at the moment. From the looks of it, though, there was about to be a confrontation, and Elizabeth knew it wouldn't be peaceful.

Everyone in the room was preparing themselves for the unexpected. They had three people who generally worked in offices out in the field under some of the worst conditions possible. Pakistan was not hospitable, and they were trying to kill some of the most ruthless terrorists in the world.

"Why can't we get that drone there any faster?" The President demanded.

"Three minutes out." One of the generals announced.

"We're taking fire." Jose shouted over the radio. It came into the Situation Room really tinny and crackly.

Another car could be seen on the satellite behind Murphy Station's. Flashes showed on the satellite. The car must be shooting at Jose and Jane… and Henry…

"Oh, my god." Elizabeth held a hand to her mouth, hoping the op wasn't about to unravel, hoping Henry was going to be okay…

The President repeated his earlier question. "Where's that damn drone?"

The assembly in the Situation Room watched Murphy Station's car crash into a building on the side of the road. They watched the driver get out and begin shooting.

Elizabeth couldn't breathe. She didn't know which one of them had been driving, but Jose was still talking on the radio, so there was a fifty-fifty chance that her boyfriend was engaged in a last-ditch effort to keep the terrorists away from himself.

Just when she thought she couldn't watch another second, she saw an explosion envelope Disah's car followed by another that took out the car pursuing Murphy Station. In all the smoke, she couldn't see Murphy Station get away from the car. For all she could see, they could have been hit. They could all be dead. Henry could be dead.

She tried to breathe, but she couldn't. She tried to hear what everyone was saying, but her ears wouldn't work. Everything seemed to swim in front of her eyes.

She had to get out. Staying would only make her feel worse. Someone would eventually notice she wasn't okay, and the thought of explaining herself made her panic.

Cutting was the only thing that could help when she was panicking. Her brain couldn't remember anything but the primal need to feel the pain she was experiencing. It made no sense to her that her body was fine when her mind felt as if it was being attacked on all sides.

Elizabeth nearly ran out of the Sit Room, rushing for the bathroom. She had just watched her boyfriend, the only person she had gotten close to in a couple dozen years, very possibly get himself blown up. This was why she had thought dating him was a bad idea. He had said he would stay in the embassy, but then he had run out into the danger. It didn't matter that they had finally found Disah. It didn't matter that Jose and Jane were with him. All that mattered to her was that he had chosen to stay behind after the embassy had been evacuated.

They hadn't even had a chance to talk about everything from the night they tried to have sex... She wanted to apologize… Something…

Running into the bathroom down the hall from the Sit Room, she locked herself in the stall and got out her kit. It was lucky that cabinet members didn't have to go through security to enter the White House, otherwise the metal from the razor blades probably would have been picked up on a scanner. Now, though, she didn't care. She was rushing to get out what she needed. Her hands were clumsy, and the little black bag she kept her "tools" in kept getting caught on her purse. But after a few seconds that felt like years, she was able to free her supplies from the bag.

 ***Explicit description of cutting ahead. Exercise caution. I'm not kidding about this.***

Disinfecting her skin and the razor blade slowed her down a second, but her mind was still racing. How on earth was Henry going to make it out of there alive? They didn't have any transport ready for him and his team. What would happen if he didn't make it? What if the drone blast had accidentally…?

There was no way she could handle all of those questions, so she slashed herself viciously across the stomach. She didn't even prepare. Normally, she'd cut slowly and watch the blade slice her flesh. She liked to make neat, even rows of cuts. If she could avoid it, she didn't let one cut cross another one. For some reason, that seemed too messy and disorganized. Besides, cutting across existing cuts hurt a lot, and normally she didn't want that much pain. Now, though, she didn't care. The more pain, the better. No amount of physical pain could match the anguish she was in.

The white-hot panic in her mind cooled a degree or two as she felt the skin split and the blood release over her torso. But everything was still too overwhelming. She cut again and again, getting into a rhythm of cut after cut, not even feeling the pain of it. Her arm moved mechanically across her body, developing a rhythm. The edges of her skin gaped on either side of where the blade had sliced. Elizabeth could see the milky white layer of fat just beneath the skin where the cuts stayed wide open. Soon, though, the fat layer was covered by the amount of blood pouring from the wounds. She didn't feel how hard she was pressing, but she felt the release of her skin, and smiled. It felt like her skin was relaxing. Endorphins raced through her system, numbing the physical pain as well as the panic in her mind. She could feel herself start to relax. Her body slumped down on the floor, and she rested her head against the wall. The wall felt cool against her face. It was steady, and she could feel her body starting to shake slightly.

There was hardly any space left on her stomach to cut, but she couldn't see much through the blood, anyway. Her stomach looked like a pool of blood with the occasional edge of skin sticking up. Blood gathered in between the ribbons of intact skin, but then spilled out onto the floor. It wasn't enough, though. Without looking, she started on the tops of her thighs, needing to keep cutting. Her arm hadn't stopped its rhythm – across, blade against skin, drag down as far as it would go, pick up arm, and begin again…as many times as it took. She was afraid of losing the endorphin high. She was afraid of what might happen if her mind was allowed to think about Henry and what might be happening to him. If he had died, she deserved this pain. This was nothing compared to what he would have felt.

As she cut more, she thought less and less of Henry or the Sit Room. Pakistan wasn't important. What had even worried her so much about Pakistan? She could still feel herself breathing rapidly, but she didn't remember why she was so upset. A general sense of resigned confusion settled over her.

Her mind was blessedly hazy and empty. Finally, she had gotten the fear to stop. She felt nothing, and it was a welcome respite. Vaguely, from far away because her ears still weren't working properly, she heard her razorblade clatter to the floor. She must have dropped it, she thought. It might be the cold that made her drop it. The room had gotten really cold, and her fingers were numb and clumsy, but that was okay. The cold made her sleepy. Her vision was foggy, and she closed her eyes. She could sleep for a little while... The pull of unconsciousness was too strong, even if she had wanted to fight it. She let herself slip into the darkness. At least there was no pain in the darkness. The darkness would keep her safe, and she wouldn't have to go back into the fear and pain.


	15. You're the one thing

Chapter 14: You're the one thing I can't stand to lose

* * *

Frank stood guard outside the bathroom. He had been standing in the security area outside the Situation Room when he saw his charge exit and run for the bathroom. Since the White House was secure, he hadn't bothered to follow immediately. He said his goodbyes to the other security officers waiting for protectees inside the Sit Room before standing outside the door to the women's bathroom, making sure he was close enough to protect the secretary in an emergency, but far enough away to give her privacy.

After fifteen minutes, though, he started to get concerned. Had he somehow missed Elizabeth? Hadn't he seen her go in the bathroom? Not wanting to let the situation get away from him, he knocked on the door.

"Madam Secretary, you okay?"

No response. He waited a few moments, listening intently, and then knocked again.

Again, nothing.

He gestured a couple of the security guys over to him. "She's been in there nearly twenty minutes, and she's not responding. I'm going in to check on her."

They nodded and Frank announced himself before opening the door. "Diplomatic Security, I'm coming in."

At first he didn't see anything. With his first visual sweep of the room, he could see that the end stall was closed and the rest were open and unoccupied, but when he looked again, he could see blood on the floor flowing into the drain.

 _Oh, god._ "Secretary's down!" He called into his radio. He jimmied open the bathroom door and found her lying in a pool of blood. She was white as a sheet and not moving. He started to sound an alarm that a gunman might be loose in the White House – only a gun could cause that much blood to spontaneously come out of a person… but then he saw a razor blade two inches from her own hand.

She had done this to herself. He knew what that razor blade meant. He could see long gashes on her stomach and legs. Her face was pale, but she was still breathing. He could see slow, uneven, and shallow rises of her chest. Frank looked for a pulse, and felt one, even if it was weak. At least she was alive.

He spoke into his wrist radio. "I need an ambulance immediately. Prepare to go to GW. Alert GW to have a trauma surgeon ready."

At that moment, a crew of White House paramedics arrived with a stretcher. One of the Secret Service agents guarding the Sit Room had heard Frank and called in for additional backup.

The paramedics began to mop up the blood and put pressure on the wounds, as they had been trained to do. When they could tell it was safe to move Elizabeth, they transferred her to the stretcher and covered her with a blanket for privacy and to help with the shock. Once they started wheeling her out to meet the ambulance, Frank had to run to keep up. The paramedics were rushing as fast as they could, knowing the secretary had a very real chance of bleeding out. He knew the DS operations center would be working frantically to make sure that the sudden movement of the secretary was cleared with Secret Service stationed at the White House. Agents would be ready to meet them at the hospital, and they would already have space secured for her. In the meantime, he hoped that the rest of her detail would be able to find them for the ride to the hospital. When she was in the White House, only Frank followed her around to make sure that she was safe.

As Frank got in the ambulance behind the paramedics, he was glad to see that the motorcade was already going, and several police cars had been dispatched to help them get through the streets quickly.

Time was of the essence, judging by the amount of blood he had seen on the bathroom floor.

* * *

Isabelle Barnes sat in her office at CIA headquarters in Langley, VA. She was hurriedly typing up a report when she got a phone call.

"Barnes." She answered distractedly, still focusing on her computer screen.

"Ms. Barnes, this is Diplomatic Security. You're listed as Elizabeth Adams's next of kin. We need you to get to George Washington University Hospital."

"Oh, my god, is she okay?" Now her attention was fully directed to the phone call, her computer and report forgotten.

The voice on the other end of the phone betrayed no emotion. "Ma'am, we need you to get to the hospital."

She started grabbing for her purse and keys. "Okay. I'm on my way." She was already trying to remember where she had parked that morning. The parking lot was huge, and she had a bad habit of running late, so she had to take whatever spot was available.

"There's a car waiting for you outside."

"Oh. Okay. That works." _It must be serious if they're sending a car for me._

Isabelle tried to go through all the news she had heard about her friend recently. She couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary that would explain why Elizabeth was in the hospital. The only thing she could remember was a few gossip magazines talking about Elizabeth dating some guy – as if it were big news. Although, for Elizabeth, it was news. She didn't date much.

As she got in the black SUV waiting outside the building, Isabelle thought about how their lives had diverged. They had both started in training together. They had learned how to keep their entire existence secret. But then Elizabeth had taken the job as Secretary of State, and her life was in the newspapers. Isabelle thought that must have been quite an adjustment. The idea of having her name and picture printed in a newspaper still struck professional fear in Isabelle.

* * *

Isabelle watched through the operating room windows at GW. She had been led to a waiting room, but she had insisted on seeing Elizabeth. Everyone at the hospital had been working feverishly to make sure such a critical patient was cared for, and Isabelle wasn't about to wait when things were so serious. She knew as well as the doctors that blood loss and prolonged lack of blood volume to the brain could cause permanent damage…

She could see doctors stitching shut long, jagged cuts on Elizabeth's legs and stomach. She looked pale as a ghost. They had given her a blood transfusion, and Isabelle hoped it would work. It was disconcerting to see the raw edges of flesh being pulled together and sewn back together. Like some thread could hold everything together.

After the first few minutes, the doctors at the hospital had seemed to calm down. Once they had her vitals stabilized, it was just a matter of stitching up her injuries.

Isabelle could see the monitor to know that Elizabeth's blood pressure and heart rate were back up to a normal range. If they slipped below normal, she knew the machine would beep and flash the number in red. But everything was calm now. A far cry from the drama that had first greeted her.

She knew Elizabeth would be fine, but she didn't want to think about what would have happened if it had taken DS much longer to get her to the hospital. It sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't spent much time with Elizabeth since they had uncovered Munsey and Juliet's plot. But she certainly didn't want her resorting to self-injury to deal with her problems. Isabelle had her own life, but if her friend needed her, she would have been more than available…

"Ma'am?"

Isabelle turned around to see a doctor in scrubs and a surgical cap. He broke her from her thoughts.

"You're the Secretary's next of kin?"

"I guess, yeah." Isabelle didn't want to tell the story of how she and Elizabeth had been in the CIA, and Elizabeth had realized she didn't have an emergency contact.

The doctor smiled, trying to be calming. "Okay. Well, medically, she's going to be fine. We will hold her overnight just to be sure, but she's stable. They're just finishing up putting in the stitches. Those will need to come out in ten days or so. I'm going to put her on some preventative antibiotics to make sure she doesn't get an infection. She'll be pretty sore and stiff, but she should be fine to walk around. We just don't want her overdoing it – lifting anything heavy..."

"Right, I understand."

"Now..." The doctor lowered his voice. "Normally I'd put a patient who came in with cuts like this on a psychiatric hold..."

Isabelle's mind reeled. She had been told that Elizabeth's injuries were self-inflicted, but somehow she hadn't thought that her friend might be committed. "I'm sure she would rather keep this thing quiet. I can check in on her to make she's okay."

Her gaze was firm and slightly steely. She knew that if this incident kept Elizabeth from working or if it became front-page news… That would devastate Elizabeth, and clearly there was already too much going on for her to handle.

"Alright." The doctor conceded. Some things were a little different when a patient was so high profile. There wasn't a law saying patients with self-inflicted injuries had to be put on a psych hold – it was just hospital practice. After medical necessity, privacy and discretion had to be the priority. "Even so, I'll give her the option of admitting herself when she wakes up. I'll also give her the contact information for some good therapists in the area. I know some people who work with government officials. They can keep their mouths shut."

The doctor continued. "The hospital is going to have to give a statement about why the Secretary was here. We can decline to give a comment if you would prefer, but that would likely make the press more curious. I'd recommend saying something simple like she had a temporary drop in blood pressure that was quickly remedied and shouldn't happen again."

It wasn't false. It just wasn't the whole story.

"Yeah. That sounds good." Isabelle agreed without really paying attention.

The doctor followed her distracted gaze. "It looks like they're wheeling her into recovery now. She should wake up in a few hours."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Of course."

* * *

Elizabeth opened her eyes blearily. The lights above her head seemed too bright, and she had the strong desire to go back to sleep. Her body felt heavy – too heavy. She didn't have the strength to sit up, let alone stand.

It occurred to her that she didn't know where she was. Her brain tried to connect the dots. The last thing she remembered was being in the Situation Room. So how had she gotten… wherever she was?

Opening her eyes further, she saw herself lying in a narrow hospital bed next to a bunch of quiet monitors. There was a curtain pulled around her bed, but it didn't do much to block out the harsh, industrial lighting. A chair sat next to her bed, and someone was in it, watching her.

"You could have called, you know."

Elizabeth sank back and closed her eyes.

Isabelle continued. "I'm just saying you could have called instead of getting your goons to drag me across the river to come hang out with you."

When Elizabeth tried to talk, she realized her throat was dry and scratchy. "What… are you… talking about?"

Tone softening, Isabelle got up and sat beside her friend. "You remember anything?" She stroked Elizabeth's hair back from her face.

"I remember being at the White House…" She tried to think, but her brain felt fuzzy. Her words came slowly. "We were watching the feed from-" She stopped abruptly. This time she trailed off because she knew she couldn't share.

"Go on. Just leave out the classified bits." Isabelle encouraged.

"I needed a break, so I stepped out, and I… oh. Oh, god." Elizabeth's eyes widened as she realized what must have happened. "How long have I been here?" She looked around the room for a clock, suddenly dreading seeing the time. She had no sense of how long she had been asleep. Anything could have happened in the meantime.

Isabelle spoke evenly, taking her friend's hand, "Only about six hours. They brought you in and stitched you up. 152 stitches, the doctor told me."

Elizabeth stopped looking around for a clock and looked back at Isabelle. "And they dragged you down here? Why?"

"You remember our first week in training? When they made us fill out those comprehensive medical histories?"

"Part of me is still filling out that form." Elizabeth shuddered, remembering the awful amount of paperwork. "How were we supposed to remember every time we twisted an ankle?"

"You listed me as your emergency contact." Isabelle remembered the timid young women they had been in their first days of training together. She had immediately gravitated to the shy blond sitting next to her, and when Elizabeth revealed she didn't have an emergency contact, Isabelle had been happy to volunteer.

Realization hit her. "I nearly forgot... I haven't had to fill out one of those forms in years."

"Well, apparently they're still using the old one." She teased lightly.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into all this." Elizabeth was genuinely sorry for involving her friend, who probably had fourteen hundred better things to do.

"It's no trouble. Langley was getting kinda monotonous." Isabelle deadpanned.

Elizabeth laughed. She knew Langley was anything but monotonous. "Thanks for saying that."

Casually, Isabelle probed, as if she were asking about nothing more interesting than the weather. "So… Is this a new hobby you've picked up? The cutting?"

"I guess you could call it that." _A hobby._

"It started…?"

"After Iran. After Juliet. After I was nearly responsible for completely destabilizing the Middle East." Elizabeth spoke in a biting tone, though all of her resentment was directed at herself. Isabelle's light tone made it easy for Elizabeth to answer her questions. She knew she couldn't have been so open if Isabelle had made it into a big production.

"Always the humble one…" Isabelle teased.

Elizabeth shot back, "Did you just come here to make fun of me?"

Without missing a beat, Isabelle replied. "No. I came here to make medical decisions for you since they weren't sure if you were going to live." Her words stung slightly, hiding just a touch of venom, but still light on the surface.

"Oh." Elizabeth didn't want to think about what that had been like.

"Yeah."

"Sorry…"

Isabelle sighed. "You don't have to be sorry. I'm not here to guilt trip you. But you need to get help before something like this happens again. They're gonna keep this quiet and release you tomorrow, but next time they won't be so accommodating." She didn't mention what a miracle it was that the news hadn't leaked out somehow. It seemed that they had all gotten very lucky this time and the only people who knew the full story was Diplomatic Security, the medical staff, and Isabelle. DS would write a classified internal report that no one would ever see, and medical staff members were bound by privacy laws.

"It was just one time. I'm not going to do it again. I'm fine." Elizabeth tried to reassure her.

"Really? I know you think you can tough this out, but it isn't working so well. You need to get help before this thing really gets out of control." Isabelle gently tried to make her friend see reason.

Elizabeth couldn't hear Isabelle's soft, comforting tone. All she heard was judgment and reproach. She didn't need help – that would mean that something was wrong, that something had to change. They would make her stop cutting, and she just wasn't ready for that. Her voice went up with each word, nearly shouting. "It's not out of control!"

"I hope that's not true." Isabelle said seriously and flatly, not matching her emotional outburst.. "Please don't tell me you _intended_ to bleed out on a bathroom floor."

"No." Elizabeth deflated and looked at her hands, almost shocked that she had managed to hurt herself that bad. "Of course I didn't mean for that to happen." She whispered the last part.

"From here, it's hard to tell."

Elizabeth's voice rose again. "But I can't just drop everything..."

"Stop." Isabelle interjected. "You don't have to drop everything. You just need to talk to someone. The hospital's giving you a list of names, and I'm always here…"

Nodding, realizing that fighting would get her nowhere, she thought about how she had managed to land herself in the hospital, Elizabeth responded, "I'll think about it."

"Okay."

Isabelle watched her friend's eyes start to droop, and she reminded herself that Elizabeth had just been through major surgery – not to mention major blood loss and a transfusion.

"Why don't you get some sleep, huh? You feel okay? Need anything?" Isabelle helped arrange pillows behind Elizabeth so she could recline comfortably.

"I'm fine. Just tired." Elizabeth could feel herself losing the battle with sleep.

"Just rest. I'll be back tomorrow."

* * *

"Well, if you don't want to be admitted, please at least consider calling one of the therapists I'm recommending for you. If this happens again, it won't be a choice."

Elizabeth bristled at the doctor's words. The morning light streamed into her window. She had gotten a surprisingly good night's sleep, probably due to the pain medication she had been given. During the night, she had gotten up a few times to go to the bathroom, and everything had gone all right. She was ready to get out of the hospital, but this doctor was being a pest. He seemed like a nice guy, but he clearly didn't understand the situation at all. If he knew what was going on, he would recognize that this was completely out of the ordinary. It wasn't like she routinely cut this much for fun.

But she knew she couldn't complain, so she smiled and thanked the doctor. "Yes, I'll think about it and look over the list."

She had absolutely no intention of looking at the list or visiting a therapist, but if it made the doctor feel better to hear it, she would tell him that.

The doctor smiled, pleased. "Good. Well, unless you have any questions, I think we're ready to send you home. Remember not to do anything strenuous for a few days, and don't try to lift anything heavy for a couple weeks. We'll get you an appointment to get those stitches taken out. And call us back if anything seems off or you run into trouble."

"Thank you."

All she really wanted was to get home. She wanted to crawl in bed and forget everything. But she knew she wouldn't be headed home. She'd go home for a quick change of clothes, but then she'd be right back in the Sit Room managing the operation in Pakistan. In a way, it was better to get back to work. She still needed to get Henry home.

If he were still alive, of course.

He had to be alive. She had to go to work to bring him home. That was the only way she could make this better. She needed his arms around her, keeping her warm and safe. When they were together, nothing could hurt them… It was when she was alone that things became difficult…

But she had spent most of her life alone. What would it mean to _need_ another person? Did that make her weak?

She didn't know. Right now, she didn't have the energy to figure it out. Right now, she just needed to get Henry back. They could figure everything out once he was back.

* * *

In the car, Elizabeth called Nadine for updates. She desperately needed to know what was going on, but she also needed something to fill the awkward silence she felt with Frank in the front seat. She felt as if she should say something to the man who had saved her life, but what could she say?

"What have you got for me, Nadine?"

Nadine hesitated. She had been told the secretary was in stable condition after experiencing a medical emergency at the White House. She didn't want to guess what it might have been. It could have been another panic attack… And if the secretary were having more problems with panic attacks, she might need time to rest.

"Are you sure you're alright, ma'am? We can handle this if you need to take some time."

Elizabeth had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. No one understood. She needed to get back to work. She was fine. Totally fine. The alternative was not acceptable. "I'm fine. What's the status of Murphy Station?"

Nadine couldn't ignore a direct question. "They're hiding out in a grocery store on the edge of Islamabad."

"All of them?" She tried not to show how desperate she was to know Henry was alive.

"Yes. They're all there. Jose took a bullet to the chest, but we don't know too much more about his status. Their radio ran out of battery."

Breathing, Elizabeth consoled herself with the knowledge that as of the last update, Henry was still alive. "Okay. I'm on my way to the White House. Thanks for holding down the fort."

"Of course. Glad you're feeling better, ma'am."

Elizabeth hung up the phone and leaned back in her seat. Henry was alive. That was all she needed to know. There was still a lot to be done, but she could handle it. As long as Henry came back to her.

She knew she shouldn't be relying on Henry… She was the Secretary of State. She should be strong on her own. He wasn't just any boyfriend, either. He had a dangerous job, and he could be taken from her at any time. Was it really smart to get so emotionally invested in a person who might leave her?

Elizabeth knew what it was like to lose people. She had only been thirteen when her parents died, after all. Her head told her she should never be that dependent upon someone else again. But her heart knew it was already too late. She just couldn't admit it to herself quite yet…

* * *

"Bess, good to have you back. You sure you don't want to take some time?" Conrad looked at his Secretary of State as she walked into the Sit Room that afternoon. He could tell she was walking gingerly, as if she had gotten beaten up rather than had a bout of anemia – or whatever Russell had said happened to her.

"I'm happier here, Mr. President. Thank you." She smiled graciously. Conrad really was trying to help, she knew.

"Alright, well, you came just in time. We've just about got Murphy Station out of Pakistan. We've got a chopper headed towards them now." He turned back to the screen he had been watching before she came in.

"Glad to hear it, sir." She focused her attention to the screen.

Speaking to the whole room now, Conrad said, "Alright, everyone. Let's bring our team home."

They all watched the chopper get closer and closer to the rendezvous point before landing.

"Do you see them, Captain?" The president asked the leader on the chopper.

"Negative, sir." There was a slight pause, and then the captain spoke again, with urgency. "Shots fired, shots fired!"

Elizabeth tensed, seeing the bright flashes on the screen. From the camera position, though, they couldn't see where the bullets were landing. The bullets could be hitting anything or anyone. For all she could tell, they could be hitting Henry, ripping apart his body just as he was about to be taken to safety. This couldn't be happening. Finding out Henry was alive only to have him shot on the way to the helicopter…

"Dammit." Russell moved closer to the screen, getting nervous. "What's your status, captain?"

"They weren't firing at us. Just nearby. We're good."

"Copy that." Admiral Parker said to the helicopter. He turned to the president. "Sir, they'll wait ten minutes and then pull up stakes."

Elizabeth shot a terrified look at Conrad. Ten minutes seemed like an incredibly tiny window of time. They wouldn't really leave Murphy Station behind, would they? After everything Murphy Station had done? All the personal risk and sacrifice…

"Any sign of Murphy Station?" Russell asked the captain in the helicopter.

"Nega- Wait. There's movement about sixty yards away. Approaching."

Everyone gathered in the Sit Room could see a blurry cluster of people.

"Can you confirm it's Murphy Station?" Admiral Parker asked the captain.

"Affirmative. We have eyes on Murphy Station. Full set. Murphy Station is accounted for."

"Thank God." The president sighed in relief as he watched Jane, Jose, and Henry reach the helicopter.

Elizabeth was aware that the entire room was clapping, celebrating their success. Joy and relief played across her face. She had the urge to burst into tears with happiness. Henry was safe. Finally.

"Congratulations, Murphy Station, on a job well done." The president spoke to the three people now safely ensconced in the helicopter.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Henry replied into a headset he was given. He was exhausted. Jane and Jose had managed to get a few hours sleep, but he hadn't. He was stressed out, and he needed a good stiff shot. Or six.

Conrad turned slightly to Elizabeth, but continued speaking to Henry. "I'm here with the Secretary of State and the rest of the NSC. We're all looking forward to you coming home."

Henry visibly relaxed and smiled. No one else thought it was anything but the relief of hearing a familiar voice. But Henry knew he was relieved to know that Elizabeth was there and knew he was safe. He had some explaining to do. He knew she would have been beside herself, and she would need some reassurance. "Thank you, sir. I think I'm going to take some of my vacation days. I look forward to being a couch potato for a while."

Elizabeth was overcome with relief, but also with a tumultuous mix of guilt and regret. She'd have to tell Henry what had happened while he was gone. But oh, if that man couldn't make her feel better from halfway across the world.

Vaguely, she heard the president say, "Well deserved, Henry."


	16. I'm gonna follow my heart right back

Chapter 15: I'm gonna follow my heart right back to you

* * *

Henry went directly to Elizabeth's townhouse after landing at Andrews and being debriefed. Of course, part of him wanted to go back to his own apartment for a change of clothes and a bottle of whiskey, but during the long flight, all he had been able to think about had been Elizabeth. He had something to get home to, and it changed everything. His priorities were different. The risk taking wasn't fun anymore. During his deployments, he had enjoyed the adrenaline rush, but when he thought about losing Elizabeth, the adrenaline soured and became restless anxiety. The thought of seeing her gave him energy, which was something he desperately needed after being awake for days.

Elizabeth heard the ring of the doorbell. She knew Henry was only ringing the doorbell as a courtesy. He would come in on his own. It made her smile. He felt comfortable with her, and she with him.

"Hey, babe." Henry called to her as he opened the door. He saw her entryway, and it looked just like it had before he had left. Everything looked so normal. It soothed him.

"Henry!" She tried to run to greet him, but it was difficult with her stitches. Moving too quickly made her feel like the stitches were going to rip out of her skin. The pain, so welcome at the time, was definitely not making her feel any better now. When she caused the pain, it was soothing, but when the pain shot up her legs with every step, she was just reminded of what a bad idea it had been.

She threw herself into Henry's arms and clung on tightly. Tears worked their way down her cheeks, and she tried to reassure herself with Henry's presence. He was real. He had really made it home in one piece. She wouldn't have to say goodbye to him…

"I'm back. Safe and sound." Henry clutched onto her, reassuring himself just as much as he was reassuring her.

"Oh, god, I missed you. You have no idea." She covered his face in kisses and then busied herself with checking him over, looking for injuries that might not have been reported to her. She saw some bruises and scrapes, but nothing bad.

"I promised I would come back to you, babe. I'm here." He stopped her frantic search for injuries and gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Holding her face in his hands, he looked at her, like he had wanted to do in Pakistan.

Her eyes settled on his, and she calmed, content that he was okay. "Just don't leave like that again."

"I'm ready to stay here for quite a while. I've had enough excitement." He winked playfully.

"Good. Because I'm not letting you leave." She sniffed, trying to keep her tears from turning into sobs. She hugged him tightly again, loving the feeling of being surrounded by his muscular bulk. She breathed deeply. Her nose wrinkled. "Although..." She sniffed Henry again. "I might make you take a shower."

"You don't like the smell of sweaty man?" He grinned.

"Um... Not stale sweaty man, no. Freshly sweaty man, maybe." She lightly bit her bottom lip in spite of herself. Henry might not smell that great, but he was still sexy as hell.

"Good point. Do you mind...?" He gestured up the stairs to the bathroom.

She nodded quickly. "Go right ahead. Towels are in the counter under the sink. Leave your clothes on the bed and I'll wash them for you."

"Thanks, babe. You want to order us something to eat? I'm starved."

"That, I can do." She said as she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He was wearing normal shoes, and she was only wearing her house slippers. The height difference combined with the very masculine image of her man returning from battle made her take a couple deep breaths to keep herself under control. Machismo didn't normally excite her, but she could get into it… Her hand reached out to squeeze his muscular upper arm as he started climbing the stairs, and he shot a knowing wink at her.

She shook herself and set about the task of gathering food for her hunter – that is, calling for delivery.

* * *

When Henry got upstairs, he opened the sink cabinet to get a towel, and he grabbed the one on top. Behind it, though, he saw what looked like stained towel next to a white box. Concerned, he pulled the items out and opened the box. There were razor blades, alcohol wipes, and gauze rolls, and he realized he was holding the supplies Elizabeth used to cut herself. He quickly replaced them, not wanting to intrude.

Henry stepped in the shower and began to wash off the dust and grime from his skin. After days spent hiding out in Pakistan, he felt like his skin saw the light of day for the first time.

He didn't know if he should confront Elizabeth about the stuff he'd found under her sink or not. He didn't want her to think he was trying to invade her privacy… He hadn't been.

It wasn't like it was new information, either. He knew she cut. Logically, he also knew that she kept supplies to do that. It was probably safer that she had all of the first aid supplies ready. He could hardly complain about that.

But he couldn't get his mind off of it. It looked so planned. It looked established. Like she wasn't trying to stop. Rationally, he realized that he still had whiskey in his apartment, even if he was trying to stop drinking. Just because she still had the supplies didn't mean she wasn't trying not to use them…

He decided he'd have to say something to her if only to stop himself from brooding about it. All she would have to do would be to tell him that she was trying not to use those supplies.

Turning off the hot water and wrapping himself in the fluffy towel, he saw what looked suspiciously like his t-shirt hanging on the hook behind the bathroom door. He smiled to himself. Elizabeth must have grabbed it and worn it. The thought was very erotic and gave him a thrilling sense of possessiveness. Elizabeth was _his_ girlfriend. It was _his_ shirt she wanted. He was hers – she wanted him – and that filled him with pride.

* * *

"Your clothes will be done in half an hour or so… Oh, I see you found something to wear." Elizabeth said, taking in Henry's appearance as he descended the stairs. He was wearing his own t-shirt, and he had a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Yeah. I'm good."

Elizabeth blushed. "I just… Your shirt smelled like you…" She was a little embarrassed that she had been acting like a love struck teenager.

Henry took her in his arms and kissed her. "It's okay, babe. I'm sorry I scared you."

"Since you came back, I'll forgive you." She spoke into his neck. "Now, there should be some Chinese food arriving in a few minutes."

Henry's stomach rumbled at the thought. "Oh, perfect."

"You have a seat while we wait. I'll get plates so we're ready." She disappeared off to the kitchen.

When they were both sitting comfortably on the sofa, Henry thought it was as good a time as any to broach the subject of what he had found upstairs.

"Hey babe, when I was upstairs getting my towel…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

She thought for a moment, confused about why he was being awkward. Then it occurred to her. "Oh! Oh, god." She knew exactly where this was going. Her hands covered her face in embarrassment.

"Baby, it's okay. I'm not mad…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think…" She tried to keep from crying.

He rubbed her back gently. "Elizabeth, it's okay. Really. I just want to make sure _you're_ okay."

She knew this was the moment she'd have to tell him. As she opened her mouth to try to find words, the doorbell rang, and she jumped up to get it, eager for an excuse.

When she returned with their food, Henry was still intent on getting an answer, even as they busied themselves with divvying up the noodles and rice. The dumplings, of course, were all hers.

"Babe?" He looked at her intently, waiting.

"Um… there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened while you were gone." She paused, unsure of how to start.

"What is it?" He furrowed his brow. Somehow he hadn't thought through all that must have happened while he was gone. He had been busy enough on his own; he hadn't had a chance to think about what Elizabeth must have been doing. But she had probably had plenty of ongoing work at the State Department. Maybe she had to tell him about some other development.

He was trying to think of what work related news she could need to tell him. On a subconscious level, he probably knew what was coming, but he was protecting himself.

"I um… I cut. A lot… I… Frank found me and took me to the hospital. I passed out… I've got 152 stitches." She looked down, hiding her face.

Henry sat dumbfounded.

It took him several seconds to find his voice. "Oh, my God. Baby, are you okay? You should be lying down…" He knelt in front of her and took her hand in his. He stroked her cheek gently, trying to come to grips with how much pain she had been in. 152 stitches worth of pain…

"I'm okay. Just a little stiff. And the stitches itch like crazy." She tried to smile.

"152? Baby, how did you manage…?" He was still trying to work it out in his head.

"A lot of them are under the skin. They told me they had to sew the skin back in layers." She tried to reassure him, but she realized she was probably only making it worse.

"What… what happened?" He was wracking his mind for what could have possibly befallen Elizabeth that would make her hurt herself that bad.

She looked down again, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"Come on. Talk to me, babe. It's okay." He coaxed.

"I… saw you in the Sit Room. In the explosion that took out Disah. I didn't know if you were alive… The whole situation was so out of control. Russia was being completely unhelpful. Conrad was upset that Render Safe wasn't a sure thing… We thought all of Pakistan's nukes might fall into HS's hands. …and all I knew was you had chosen to stay there, even though you promised…" She started crying softly.

"Oh, Elizabeth… I'm so sorry. We didn't have coms for the longest time, so I couldn't get a message to you."

"I know. I know."

"Do you feel better now? Do you still want to cut?" He was terrified that she had cut that much. Much more, and she wouldn't still be there to tell him about it. He couldn't bear to lose her.

"I'm better now. Really. I'm never going to cut like that again."

Henry thought about it. He wanted to believe her, but he knew that if it had happened once, it could happen again.

"God, babe, I just don't know what to say. This is scary. Can you promise me you'll call me if you ever want to cut that much again?" He was determined to keep her from cutting so deep.

"Henry, don't make me make a blanket promise like that…" Elizabeth felt trapped. It was scary enough to tell Henry about this one incident. Telling him every time she was upset was on the other side of a line of intimacy she wasn't sure if she was ready to cross. Besides… He had chosen to stay in Pakistan instead of coming home to her…

"When you told me you would try to call me before you cut, were you serious?"

"What do you mean? Of course I was serious…"

"This isn't asking much more. This is just saying you promise you'll pick up the phone if it's really bad."

"It wouldn't have helped this time…" She muttered quietly.

At a loss for what to do, he looked around. She had a point. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't always be available to her. The situation was so overwhelming. He hadn't realized how upsetting it would be for Elizabeth to have him gone. He wasn't used to having people worry about him. Sure, his mother had worried about him when he was overseas, but that was a different kind of thing. She hadn't known the specifics of each op. She hadn't had to watch him on a screen.

His eyes landed on their food that was getting cold.

"Babe, you need to eat to keep your strength up."

"You too. When was the last time you had real food?"

He smiled, ruefully. "I'm not sure, really. The embassy, probably."

"That was like three or four days ago."

"I guess it was." He acknowledged, handing her the plate of dumplings. "Now, eat."

"Your clothes are probably dry if you want to get them." She smiled down at him still dressed in a towel from the waist down.

"Oh." He followed her gaze. "Yeah. Clothes would probably be good."

As Henry went to get his clothes, Elizabeth turned on the TV, sighing in relief that there were cooking shows on. Her cutting was not something she wanted to discuss at length. But criticizing cooking shows was something she could do forever.

Shortly after they had finished their meal, they heard the doorbell ring. Elizabeth started to get up, but Henry made her sit down.

"Babe, you rest. I can get it." He shot her a look that was a mixture of guilt and sympathy.

He opened the door.

"Bess, I just wanted to check… Oh. Hi." Isabelle noticed that her friend was not the one answering the door.

Henry introduced himself to a woman he didn't know. He held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Henry McCord."

"Isabelle Barnes." She shook his hand. "Is Elizabeth home?"

"Yeah. Come on in." Henry stood back to let the woman pass. If security had already cleared her, she must be welcome.

"Bess?"

"I'm in here, Isabelle." Elizabeth called from the living room.

"I just came by to say hi…" She glanced uncomfortably at Henry, unsure if he knew the events of the last few days.

Elizabeth noticed the awkwardness and tried to alleviate it. "This is my boyfriend, Henry. He knows." Turning to Henry she continued, "This is Isabelle. She and I have known each other for years."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle." Henry smiled politely.

"Likewise." She smiled at Henry and turned back to Elizabeth. "Bess, how are you doing? Have you changed the dressing on your stitches today?"

"I'm fine, Isabelle. Henry can help me if I need help."

Isabelle glanced at Henry. "Okay. And otherwise? You know I'm happy to stay over here if you feel like you might…"

"I'm not going to cut like that again." She wanted to roll her eyes. Everyone suddenly cared about her cutting now that it had gotten medically serious. But before, no one had cared. She knew that wasn't quite true… Mostly, she was uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny about her cutting. It had been a very private thing, and now Isabelle was in on it, too…

"Fine. But promise me you'll call me if you change your mind. The only reason the doctor didn't put you on the psych hold was I said I'd check on you."

Elizabeth sat still. "I didn't know that." She felt as if she had lost privacy – lost her control over what happened to her. If Isabelle was the only reason she wasn't stuck in the psych ward… That was too close for her liking.

"It's okay, Bess. I'm happy to get him off your back." Isabelle sat down lightly, almost nervously. "I just hope you'll let me help." She looked out the window and then back to Elizabeth. "If we made it through farm life together, we can make it through this. And if you're not comfortable talking to me, talk to someone." Isabelle wasn't used to expressing much emotion, but she was genuinely concerned for her friend.

"I'm fine, Isabelle. Really. It was just a bad day." Elizabeth patted Isabelle's leg, hoping to reassure her.

"If you're sure, I'll get out of your hair." She could tell from the empty Chinese food containers that Elizabeth and Henry were in the middle of something. "I'll call you tomorrow just to make sure you're okay."

"I guess I can't get mad at you for that."

"No use, anyway." Isabelle smirked in the way only close friends could get away with.

Elizabeth laughed. "Thanks for stopping by, though. I like seeing you."

"We should find a time to get dinner some weekend when the world isn't about to explode." Isabelle said the last part lightly, but joking only a little.

"Sounds good."

Henry followed Isabelle to the door, leaving Elizabeth to relax in the living room. "Thanks for coming by, Isabelle. I know Elizabeth appreciates it."

"Henry…" She kept her voice down. "Do me a favor and make sure she doesn't accidentally kill herself. It was close there for a while. They sent her home with a list of therapists, but I doubt she's even looked at it."

He nodded. "I'll talk to her about it."

"Thanks. Take care of her." Isabelle's face was serious.

"I will." Henry promised.

Henry closed the door and rested his forehead against it for a second before going back to watch cooking shows.

* * *

Henry saw the sun set outside Elizabeth's window. It had gotten dark outside, and they were both still curled up in her living room watching TV.

"Babe, you gonna be okay tonight? I can stay if it would make you feel better." He rubbed her shoulder. He was sitting behind her, holding her.

Elizabeth relaxed into his touch. She loved having Henry wrap her up like he was doing. "I appreciate that, Henry, but I'm really not going to do anything like what I did. I promise."

"It would really make _me_ feel better… In fact…" He hesitated before deciding to say what was on his mind. "I think it's time we move in together. Keep each other safe. I don't like going home to an empty apartment every night. I want to spend that time with you. And right now, I think it would be good for you to have someone around here."

"You think we're ready for that? That's a lot of commitment. We aren't college kids moving into each other's dorms…"

"I love you, Elizabeth. I really do. I'm ready. Besides," he paused, "When I have to leave you here alone every night... it's hard. I don't want to have to say goodbye anymore." Henry just knew that if they moved in together he could help her stop cutting. The one night they had slept together, he had been able to calm her down, and she had fallen asleep. He could do that every night if he lived with her. Somehow, their fates were tied. She had watched him when he was in Bolivia. Henry thought if he could help Elizabeth stop cutting, he could surely stop drinking. They could help each other. Their love would be enough to get them through.

"I don't know, Henry." A million things were racing through her mind about what would change if Henry moved in. His emotional plea hit her, and she agreed, but if he moved in, he'd see her when she was in pajamas without makeup. He'd see her panic attacks and hear her nightmares… There was still so much she kept hidden from him. Living with him would open herself up to him in a way that she hadn't needed to, even if they dated six nights a week.

"Think about it, okay? I know it's a big thing."

"I'll think about it." She nodded.

Elizabeth leaned her face up to accept Henry's goodnight kiss.

"I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you, too."


	17. You're always cold

Chapter 16: You're always cold, so I'll be your sweater

* * *

When Elizabeth got home from work, about a week after she got her stitches out, she found Henry sitting on her sofa. She smiled to herself at the expected sight but put on a teasing voice.

"Is this your latest strategy to get me to like you? Just stay here until I forget you don't live here?"

"You already like me, babe. But the answer to your question is yes." Henry was reading a newspaper in Elizabeth's living room. His eyes never left the page.

He had taken to spending every evening with her, invited or not. Elizabeth had never asked him to leave.

Truth be told, Elizabeth thought it was nice to have someone to come home to, but she didn't want to say anything that would make it awkward. Henry had been understandably nervous since her cutting episode a couple weeks ago. She didn't want him to spend time with her if he were trying to keep her from cutting. Regardless, she was getting used to having him around. Especially since he nearly always got home first and made dinner.

She walked in the kitchen and found veggie burgers and pasta salad sitting ready on the counter. It smelled delicious.

"You know, you don't have to cook every night. I feel like I'm not doing my share of the work," she called back to Henry.

He followed behind her and gently enveloped her in a hug, careful to make sure she was comfortable and he wasn't hurting her. He had to be careful of the places her stitches had been because she was still a little tender. "You help with the dishes. Besides, I would cook every night, anyway."

"Well, it looks amazing." She sagged against him, allowing him to take some of her weight as she relaxed. Her townhouse felt so much more like a _home_ when it was filled with Henry's love and the scent of food.

"Hard day?" he asked, rubbing her shoulders and planting soothing kisses along her neck.

She nodded. "Just the usual. Trying to explain to Congress why foreign aid dollars deserve to be in the budget."

"Did you cut?" He asked plainly, still kissing her shoulder.

Somehow it was easy to answer such a blunt question. Everything was matter of fact. "A little. Not much."

"That's a step in the right direction." Henry turned her in his arms and kissed her on the lips.

This had become their nightly ritual – Henry asking her if she had cut herself at work. Cutting before work was one of her non-negotiables, but more days than not, she had been able to keep from cutting at work. She still had to cut at night before she was able to sleep, but if she could keep it to morning and evening, that was an improvement.

Elizabeth always answered Henry's questions honestly. She had even voluntarily told him when she wanted to cut several times. Henry encouraged her to do so, but she had more nefarious motivations, too. On some level, she thought if she were completely honest with Henry, he'd get tired of her and leave. Not that she wanted to push him away, exactly… But it was scary to be so open with someone, and she just couldn't believe he would want to stay once he knew how much she liked cutting. It would be better to push him away now rather than get too deep into their relationship.

If she didn't have Henry to worry about, she would be able to cut as much as she wanted to, just like she had before she met him.

Henry knew Elizabeth was testing the waters to see if he would give up on her. He was determined not to let her down. In so many ways, letting her down would be letting himself down. He asked her every evening when she came home from work if she had cut. He needed to know what kind of day she had had. If her day had already been bad, he would be extra cautious as they prepared for bed. Some evenings, he could tell all she could handle was watching a movie and falling into bed. Other nights, she was excited to stay up and tell him about the funny things that happened at the office. Before he went home, he tried to make sure she was ready to fall asleep. He knew she could still cut when he had gone back to his apartment, but it made him feel better to know that she was calm when he left her. So even if she did cut, hopefully it wouldn't be very much.

A couple nights, she had even called him on the phone after he had gone home. That encouraged him and made him feel like his efforts were having an effect.

Sometimes it annoyed Elizabeth that Henry was so forgiving and supportive. He never got mad at her when she told him she had cut herself. It confused her. On one hand, she knew he thought the cutting was bad, but then he didn't assign her any responsibility for it. It was like the cuts just appeared mysteriously on her body. When Henry didn't get upset over her cuts, she felt like he didn't think it was really a big deal.

Elizabeth didn't know if _she_ thought the cutting was a big deal or not. Sometimes she thought that, as long as she didn't cut too deep, there was nothing wrong with cutting at all. When she was more distressed, though, she almost wished Henry would give a stronger reaction. He never gave her a strong push to make her stop, and sometimes she wanted someone to make her stop. When she felt like the cutting was getting the best of her, she wanted Henry to swoop in and take control of the situation. When the urge to cut became so strong she felt like she had no control, she wanted Henry to protect her from that chaos.

Some days, she had come home and thrown her cutting out like a barb, hoping it would hurt him and make him respond.

 _"I cut today."_

 _"Do you want to talk about it? You bandaged the cuts and everything?"_

 _"I don't want to talk about it."_

 _"Okay. I'm here if you change your mind. I made tacos for dinner."_

Elizabeth knew she was being ridiculous. There was no way for Henry to read her mind and know when she felt guilty about her cuts and when she didn't. She knew she should just talk to him about it, but part of her thought that if he really loved her, he would make the effort to figure it out on his own. His implicit acceptance of her cutting only made her feel like she needed to do something more to get his attention – to really make him understand that the overwhelming need to cut scared her.

She wasn't going to cut deep enough for stitches again, though. That had been bad.

The hospital had scared her more than she was letting on. She and Isabelle were the only ones who knew the doctors had wanted to admit her to the psychiatric unit. She had conveniently not told Henry that little detail, and he hadn't seemed to think of it.

Since the hospital, Elizabeth had been a little more paranoid about people noticing. When she had to make public statements she always felt nervous that someone would see her cuts. She had been secretive about it before, but the stakes seemed so much higher now. Now there was a worry that if anyone noticed anything, she'd get sent to the psych ward.

 _Did they notice that?_ She thought to herself after a diplomatic photo op when she discovered that she had bled through her sleeve, just a little.

 _Are they going to send me to the psych ward?_

 _No. I'm not going to the psych ward because this isn't a problem. I'll make sure it's not a problem._

It was so much easier to minimize the cutting when a doctor in a white coat wasn't intimidating her. Besides, she wasn't cutting bad enough to need medical attention, so it wasn't really doing any harm.

 _I'm the Secretary of State. They'd never actually send me to the psych ward, anyway. I'm not even that bad. Everyone is a little messed up. Henry's a very successful analyst, and he drinks. Plenty of people had some habit, so it can't be that big of a deal. Those doctors just don't understand how stressful our jobs are… I've cut plenty of times and been just fine. It can't be as bad as the doctors act like. They're overreacting._

She was rationalizing, and she knew it. But if she didn't cut bad enough to need medical attention again, everything could go back to normal.

Henry could tell his girlfriend was trying to see if the cutting scared him. He was determined not to let her push him away. Every time she told him that she had cut herself, he thought about how much pain she must be in to do that to herself, and he could only find pity for her, and a deep instinct to protect her. He knew there was no way he could protect her if she thought he would get mad at her when she cut. So he tempered any harsh words or reactions.

It also seemed more than a little hypocritical to complain that she cut too much when he still went home and had several shots of whiskey before he could fall asleep. Henry wasn't ready to give up his nightcap, as he called it, so he could hardly begrudge Elizabeth her cutting.

* * *

Another week or so later, Elizabeth actually managed to get home by 6, a rarity for her. She saw Henry still working on their dinner, so she pulled out her laptop to catch up on news. It was rare that she had time to wander through the internet to see what was happening in the world outside of the State Department. She might know everything about the diplomatic situation in an obscure country, but she never knew what new movie was hitting the box office.

"Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, babe. Just need to finish mixing the salad dressing," Henry called to her.

"Take your time. I'm fine in here."

She went back to her scrolling. Everything looked pretty normal.

 _President Dalton Seeks Congressional Compromise (PHOTOS)_

 _Senator's Twitter Feud Goes Viral_

 _Pandas Enjoy Playtime (PHOTOS)_

 _Cherry Blossom Festival Schedule Announced_

 _Madam Secretary Hides Deep Cuts (PHOTOS)_

Elizabeth read the last headline again, mind whirring. _Photos?_ They had photos? How could they…?

Just as fast as her mind had started speeding away from her, it came to a complete halt. There were too many things jockeying for position in her brain. Someone had _seen_. The President probably _knew_. Everyone probably knew. They would all laugh at her. She wouldn't be able to work. They'd lock her up in a hospital. She'd never have any privacy ever again. Henry would leave her. The whole world would find out how weak she was. No nation would be willing to negotiate with her. No one would ever trust her again. Her life was over.

She couldn't even finish one thought before it was replaced with one worse. The laptop still sat in her lap, and all she could do was read the headline over and over again.

After a moment of sitting there frozen, locked in her mind, she realized that she was unable to get oxygen into her lungs. Her chest was compressed and wouldn't expand, no matter how hard she tried. Not that she really remembered how to breathe, anyway. Her first thought was the same as it was every time. _I'm going to suffocate. I'm going to die. I'm dying_.

It was a panic attack; she knew it. She had had enough of them now. Usually, though, she had more notice. Normally, she could cut before it got out of control.

No use with that now. As great as cutting sounded, there was no way she could get herself upstairs to her tools. She could already feel her fingers tingling. Her limbs felt crampy. She knew she might pass out soon, if she couldn't figure out a way to breathe. Her vision was starting to shift on her. It seemed as if everything was at the end of a long, black tunnel. Things seemed to move and swim, and she couldn't get her bearings. Her equilibrium was off-balance. The couch beneath her seemed to pitch forward and back, and she worried she would fall off. There was a great rushing in her ears that wouldn't let her hear anything.

Her heart started skipping beats randomly, and her chest hurt. She remembered why she had thought she was having a heart attack the first time it happened. It was still a possibility. Every panic attack she had, she still felt like _this one_ could be a heart attack…

Maybe passing out would be the best thing. At least it would make everything stop. But what if it made _everything_ stop? If she couldn't breathe now, why would that change when she passed out? She didn't want to die. The thought terrified her. Everything terrified her.

She had to breathe. It all came down to forcing enough oxygen into her lungs to survive. She concentrated all her energy on pulling air into her body. It was difficult because the muscles in her torso were clenched tight, causing her entire body to tremble with the effort. But there was no time to spare. If she couldn't get her breath back in the next few seconds, she might slip into the blackness hovering at the edge of her vision.

If only her breathing didn't feel like she was fighting a losing battle. Like a dog, she panted with increasing speed, desperate for air. It made her even more lightheaded and dizzy than she already was. Her mouth and throat felt dry and raw. Her entire body felt like one big cramp, and she was rapidly losing control. She was shivering, muscles working overtime, from a cold only she could feel. It hurt. It hurt more than the cutting ever would.

From the kitchen, Henry heard nothing. After he finished whisking the salad dressing, he took their plates into the dining room. From the doorway, he could see Elizabeth still huddled on the couch with her laptop. As he set their enchiladas down, he thought he heard her crying. Concerned, he walked into the living room, trying to figure out what was going on.

She didn't turn to look at him. He couldn't tell she was moving except for a violent trembling in her shoulders. As he got closer to her, he could hear her gasping. Realizing what was going on, recognizing the symptoms of a panic attack, he quickly knelt in front of her and moved the laptop. Seeing her face shocked him. She looked completely terrified. Tears fell down her cheeks, and she was obviously struggling to breathe.

So _this_ was what her panic attacks looked like. He tried to take her hands in his, but he realized her fingers were clenched and unyielding. Her balled up fists were straining just like the rest of her body, in a fight she was losing.

Henry looked up, into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused. He wasn't even sure if she had noticed him in front of her.

"Elizabeth?"

She didn't react at all.

"Baby?" He reached up to stroke her cheek.

Henry watched her close her eyes. It encouraged him that she responded to him, even if it was just that.

"Okay, Elizabeth. We're going to work through this together. I'm right here. You're safe with me."

Elizabeth could feel her stomach unclench just a little at his words. He wasn't freaking out. She wasn't alone. She blinked back at him, trying to focus on his face. Her breath wasn't coming any easier, and it was difficult to see him through her tunnel vision.

"That's it. Look at me, babe. You're gonna be okay. It's just a panic attack. You're not going to die." The words to calm her came naturally to him, as if he could read her fears in her eyes.

She was able to nod slightly, letting his words sink in.

"We need to get your breaths slowed down. You're hyperventilating. Here, sit up a bit for me." Henry tried to help her raise her chest so her airway was clear. She was sitting hunched over, and he knew that wouldn't help her breathe.

"I'm going to count for you, and I want you to try to breathe in… 1.. 2.. 3.. and out… 1.. 2.. 3.." He counted slowly, repeating the pattern for a couple minutes with marginal success.

Henry kept a hand on her wrist over her shirt, keeping track of the speed of her pulse. He could feel it racing, and he knew that it would only return to normal when she was able to breathe properly. He could tell she was trying to breathe with him, but her eyes darted around, and he could tell her mind was still panicking.

"Look at me. Don't worry about anything else right now. It can wait."

Elizabeth leaned into Henry's chest, resting her forehead against his shoulder. The tunnel vision was gone, and she didn't feel like she was going to die from a heart attack. Her chest still hurt, but mostly from the effort she was using to breathe. Henry stroked her hair and murmured quietly into her ear. His words were quiet, and she had to focus to hear him. The rushing in her ears subsided as she made an effort to listen to Henry. Her body was hypersensitive. Henry's touch felt invasive, but because it was Henry, and she trusted him, it calmed her. His touch was almost overwhelming, but in a good way. It almost made her forget about everything else.

"Remember the breathing. In... 1.. 2.. 3.. and out... 1.. 2.. 3.. In... 1.. 2.. 3.. and out... 1.. 2.. 3.."

He could tell her breaths were getting a little less labored. She didn't seem to be gasping quite as much. "That's it. You've got it. You're doing great."

She reached up and tried to grab a handful of his shirt, but her hand was too cramped up to work. She felt Henry wrap her clammy hand in his, warming it and holding it to his chest over his heart. The steady beat calmed her. His presence and continued quiet words soothed her.

"I've got you. I'm right here. Nothing bad is going to happen. You can relax. It's okay. I love you, baby."

"Dizzy," Elizabeth managed to choke out. She sat up and looked at Henry. His face was still as calm as ever, and it reassured her. "I'm dizzy."

Henry internally rejoiced that she was talking. "That's okay. Don't let that scare you. It's not dangerous, and it'll go away once we get you calmed down." He kissed her cheek.

Trusting him, Elizabeth tried to relax against Henry's chest again. Her muscles wouldn't quite cooperate, but she could feel his warmth seeping into her cold limbs.

"Keep up the breathing. We're through the worst of it. It's nearly over. Keep breathing for me, and you'll feel better in just a minute. In... 1.. 2.. 3.. and out... 1.. 2.. 3.. There you go. In... 1.. 2.. 3.. and out... 1.. 2.. 3.."

Elizabeth did her best, but it took several more minutes of Henry counting softly into her ear for her to get her breath under control. When she was able to take deeper breaths, she finally felt like the ground beneath her was solid. The dizziness faded slowly, and her equilibrium returned. Without the world spinning dangerously, she was able to notice that her living room looked just the same as always. For some reason, that surprised her. Her world had felt like it was ending in an apocalyptic disaster, and yet she was still sitting on the sofa with Henry kneeling in front of her.

"That's it, babe. You've got it. You're doing great." He smiled at her and brushed away her tears. "Let's try to get you loosened up a bit, here."

He started with her hands and gently uncurled her fingers. There wasn't near as much resistance as there had been before.

"Ow," Elizabeth muttered.

"Does it hurt?" Henry looked up at her, caressing her face.

"My muscles are all stiff." Her voice sounded flat and exhausted.

"It's okay. You'll be able to relax if your muscles aren't all tight. Can you lie back? That might help."

She tried to lean back, but her legs didn't seem to move. They felt like one big cramp. "This isn't working…" Elizabeth groaned.

Henry could hear the frustration in her voice and tried to keep her from spiraling back into panic. "Do you want some help, babe?"

She nodded, and Henry helped her turn and rest her legs in front of her along the couch. He picked up a throw pillow from a nearby chair to put behind her back.

"There you go. Try to straighten your legs out for me."

Elizabeth grimaced as she felt her muscles burning at the extension. After being clenched up for half an hour, it hurt to release them.

"I'm sorry you saw that, Henry."

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy to help." He perched beside her and smoothed the tense lines on her face. His fingers threaded through her hair, brushing it out of her way and letting him massage her scalp.

She was too tired to say much else right then. Leaning her head back, she allowed Henry to shower her with gentle touches that relaxed her sore muscles. He ran his hands slowly up and down her arms and legs and along her face. With every light brush of his fingers, she felt her muscles release a little more.

"That feels so nice."

Henry smiled, glad he was helping. He could feel her relaxing, and it made him feel better. Chasing away her monsters was something he had been trying to do, unsuccessfully, for months. At least with a panic attack, he felt like he was able to give her some immediate relief.

"You feel better?"

She nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Henry asked her, trying to keep his tone as light and open as possible.

She groaned and tried to curl up in a ball again. Henry put a hand lightly on her knees in an attempt to keep her from clenching up again.

"Oh, god. I nearly forgot…" Her breath sped up.

"Babe, stay calm. It's okay. Keep your breaths even for me."

Her words were quick and rushed. "The laptop, Henry. There's an article. They know about my cuts." She started crying again.

"Elizabeth, we're going to get through this. It can't be that bad." He pulled her into a hug.

She hugged him back, fiercely, letting her tears soak into his shirt. "Just look at it. Everyone is going to think I'm a big joke. They're going to think I can't do my job."

"If they think that, they're wrong. Are you okay if I read the article real quick?" He cradled her head and kissed her hair.

"Yeah." She sniffed. "Read the article. I didn't actually read it. I don't know how bad it is. But it said there were pictures."

Henry patted her leg. "Let me read it, and we'll see what we're dealing with, okay?"

She nodded and lay back against the pillow as Henry picked up the laptop and began to read.

He made an effort hide the screen from Elizabeth for fear it might make her panic again.

 _Madam Secretary Hides Deep Cuts (PHOTOS)_

 _Secretary of State Elizabeth Adams met with Congressional leaders on Tuesday to discuss the funding for foreign humanitarian aid in the FY 2017 budget. Pictured here, she is seen coming out of the meeting and telling the press that she is confident that current funding levels will be maintained. However, today we learned that Congress told the Secretary that there would be at least a 25% cut in foreign aid, the biggest cut to aid in more than two decades. Why did the Secretary paint such a rosy picture? For answers, we asked our budget expert…_

Realizing the mistake, Henry sighed, relieved for Elizabeth. No one knew about her cutting. She had jumped to conclusions, but understandably so. It sure was a provocative headline.

"It's all okay, Elizabeth. They don't know anything at all. They're saying you were hiding cuts to the foreign aid budget."

"What?" She sat up suddenly, feeling as if she had been duped. "They really don't know? Show me," she demanded.

Henry let her pull the laptop from him.

"Oh, my god. You're right." Her words were stunned and quiet as she scanned the story quickly.

"It's all okay. Nothing to worry about," Henry assured.

She handed the laptop back to him and sank into the couch, thoroughly ashamed. "I can't believe I went through all that and it wasn't even about… I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid, baby. That was a terrible headline."

She cringed, internally berating herself. "I still shouldn't have freaked out like that. It's so embarrassing."

Henry held her hand, making gentle circles with his thumb. "It's just me. No need to feel embarrassed around me. I love you, and I'm not going to freak out just because you had a panic attack."

She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "The panic attack is more embarrassing than the cutting. I just completely lost it. I'm sorry you saw that."

"Babe, no one has it together all the time."

"Yeah, well, when I lose it, people tend to threaten to start a war." She tried to joke, but she was only half kidding.

"I promise I won't start a war. You don't have to be strong around me. You can lose it as much as you want." He looked directly into her eyes, making sure she understood that he wasn't the type to leave when things got hard. He needed her to trust him.

She deflated slightly. Henry was right. The stakes weren't quite as high as she made them out to be. She hunted around for something to say, not sure how to respond.

"How did you know that was a panic attack? And how did you know how to calm me down? Last time it happened that bad, I had to go to the hospital. They had to give me sedatives and everything."

Henry responded simply. "You told me you had panic attacks, so I did some research. I wanted to be able to help."

"Learn anything interesting?" Elizabeth really hadn't done any research at all. The doctor had told her that she should try breathing exercises, and he gave her some pills that she had immediately thrown away. Beyond that, she hadn't wanted to think about her panic attacks any more than necessary, so she hadn't even looked for the most basic ways to control them.

"A fair amount. Panic attacks happen when your mind gets so overwhelmed, your body gets overwhelmed, too."

Elizabeth nodded. That sounded right.

Henry continued. "There's no magic cure. You've got to regulate your breathing and try to get your heart to stop racing. Get somewhere quiet and wait it out. They always end."

"It doesn't feel like that. It feels like they go on forever."

"I know." He commiserated, "I'm sorry it's so scary."

Elizabeth glanced toward the clock on the wall, realizing it had been nearly an hour since the whole thing started.

"Your dinner's probably all cold now." She felt guilty for taking up their evening with her panic over a stupid article that turned out to be clickbait.

"We can heat it up. It's just enchiladas. Are you okay now?"

She nodded but didn't get up. "Would you…? Um… Would you just sit here with me a minute? I need a minute…"

"Of course." Henry scooted himself next to Elizabeth, rubbing light circles on her back.

After a moment's hesitation, she climbed into his lap, draping her body over his, and letting him wrap his arms around her. He made her feel safe. When she clung onto him, she finally felt like everything would be okay, just like he said. His arms were strong where they wrapped around her slim frame. She knew he wouldn't let anything scary happen.

"I love you, Henry," she murmured into his chest, hiding her face from the world. Everything else could be spinning out of control, but Henry was solid and steady and strong…

"I love you, too." He was a little surprised that she was letting him hold her, but he was pleased. He wished he could keep her safe and protected all the time. If she let him help her, maybe she wouldn't need to resort to cutting.

"Thanks for doing the research and being so good today."

"I've got you, babe. I'm here for you."

They sat together cuddling for fifteen minutes or so. Elizabeth was soaking in the comfort Henry was so willingly giving. She was mentally and physically exhausted from her panic attack, and her whole body felt oversensitive. Henry's hand drew mindless circles on her back, and it gave her something to focus on as she listened to his steady heartbeat, letting it time her breaths. Once she felt like she could stand up without falling over, she let her mind take stock of everything. The crisis was over – and there had never really been a crisis to begin with. Her panic attack was over. She knew she'd be a little sensitive for the rest of the evening, but she'd be fine once she got some sleep. When she was just about ready to drift off to sleep in Henry's arms, she heard her stomach rumble.

"You said you made enchiladas?" Her head lifted slightly so she could look up at Henry. She still felt a little unsettled, but it had been more than seven hours since she had had lunch, and even then, she had only had a small salad. She realized she was starving.

"I did." He confirmed. "You think you're up to eating?"

She nodded.

"Okay. I'll go warm them up. You want to eat at the table? Or would you rather stay in here?"

When Henry asked the question, it occurred to Elizabeth that the idea of sitting at her formal dining room table sounded like more energy than she had.

"Oh, let's just eat in here." She picked up the remote as Henry microwaved their food.

Coming back with their plates, Henry asked, "Is there anything good on TV?"

Taking her enchilada with a word of thanks, Elizabeth said, "No. Doesn't look like it. But we can always make fun of the stuff for sale on HSN." She typed in the channel number from memory and tossed the remote to the end of couch.

"Are you kidding? This is high-quality, intellectual programming right here."

Elizabeth giggled as she settled in, leaning against Henry with her plate of enchiladas. "I'll take your word for it."


	18. Our lives have turned separate ways

Chapter 17: Our lives have turned their separate ways

* * *

When she finished her plate of enchiladas, Elizabeth felt herself grow sleepy. Her eyelids felt as heavy as bricks. Henry's arms were wrapped around her, and her whole body felt warm and relaxed. With the panic attack over, her nerves were ready to rest. She tried to keep at least one eye open to watch the TV, but eventually she let both eyes fall closed.

Henry could sense his girlfriend falling asleep. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and he could tell she was just about to drift off.

Kissing her forehead gently, he murmured softly, "Babe, you ready to go to sleep?"

She nodded. Her muscles could barely hold up her head as her brain was already half asleep.

"Let's get you up to bed." He patted her leg and helped her stand up. He kept his arm on her back, reminding her he was there.

Elizabeth tried to wake herself up enough to climb the stairs. Her limbs were heavy, though, and she stumbled slightly.

Noticing her faltering step, Henry rested his hand on her shoulder, making her stop. He reached his other arm behind her knees to pick her up. Holding her to him, he kissed her cheek.

For Henry, who had only been off reserve duty for a few years, it wasn't difficult at all to carry her up the stairs. As he entered her bedroom, he spoke quietly into her ear.

"Get some rest, babe. I love you."

He settled her gently on top of the bed and turned to her dresser to pick out some pajamas for her to wear.

Vaguely noticing the pajamas placed beside her, Elizabeth roused herself enough to sit up and tilt her face to look at Henry.

"Thank you for tonight." She puckered her lips at him, knowing he'd understand what she wanted.

Bending down to kiss her, Henry stroked her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm always here. You get some sleep, okay?"

She nodded. "Goodnight, Henry."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

Leaving her alone in her bedroom, he closed the door and made his way out of the townhouse, saying his usual goodbyes to Frank.

* * *

After he had helped Elizabeth through her panic attack, Henry felt like he finally had a handle on how to help her. He had managed to stop her panic attack without having to take her to the hospital or give her sedatives. In his mind, there was no replacement for the care of a loved one. No one knew her as well as he did, except for maybe Isabelle. Henry didn't want a stranger trying to soothe her panic attacks when he loved her more than anyone. All the medical training in the world couldn't be better than the unique comfort he could give her.

Henry had gone home and only had a couple drinks because he wanted to be available to her if she woke up and needed to talk. He was a full-grown man with a high tolerance to alcohol, and he was completely functional with only a couple drinks in him, but it still took a bit of the edge off his unease. It had been upsetting to see Elizabeth's panic, even if he hadn't shown it at the time. He was prepared and knew what to do, so he wasn't too confused, but he was still sad to think that Elizabeth had been going through that on her own. He loved her more than he ever thought possible, and it hurt him to think about what she had gone through to cause that kind of panic.

The day after her panic attack, Elizabeth had been ready to get back to normal. She had assured Henry she was fine. Panic attacks were normal for her, after all. The one he had seen had been particularly bad, but not far out of the ordinary. Sure, she would feel the effects for several days, but eventually things would settle back to normal. Even if normal for her involved nearly panicking multiple times a week.

When he had gone home that night, he drank more than he had in several weeks. The stress of being on alert in case she had another panic attack had definitely gotten to him. The next morning at work had been difficult, but he had managed. He brought Elizabeth lunch, but he could hardly manage to eat with her because he was still nauseated from his hangover. He tried not to let it show, but he suspected Elizabeth could tell when he was hung over. He was sure she could tell because she asked about it that night after dinner.

"You drank last night." She stated calmly as they walked into the living room after finishing the dishes.

"I mean, I drink most nights…" Henry tried to play it off, knowing it probably wouldn't work.

Elizabeth quickly clarified. "You got drunk last night."

"Yeah." He admitted, sitting down on the sofa. "You could tell?"

She sat down next to him. "You looked a little green at lunch."

"I guess I probably did," he conceded.

Turning to face him fully, Elizabeth asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Henry replied without looking at her. "There isn't much to talk about. I had a bad day, but it's over."

She glared at him, but let the issue rest. "So how was today?"

"Today was good. I had to read this really dark report. We think there's a new splinter of Al Qaeda that's targeting schools."

Elizabeth nodded slightly, "I think I saw something about it. You all are getting into it?"

Still unable to look at her, Henry began, having to stop every few seconds to breathe and blink the tears back. At work, he had had to push his feelings aside, but with Elizabeth, he knew he could be himself. His tears were both for his hard day and his relief at Elizabeth's care for him.

"Yeah. It just hit me hard, looking at these kids. The school is calling them honorary graduates. For some reason, that stuck out to me. …These kids didn't even have a chance. They were there to get their education. There was no reason for them to be killed. But I'm glad their parents at least have a diploma... It just makes it so much worse. That diploma could have gone on to discover a new law of physics or something. …But now their parents just have the diploma to remember what potential their kids had."

Elizabeth didn't have anything to say. There was no way to make it okay.

"I'm sorry." She opened her arms and let him rest his head on her shoulder. "That's awful."

"I just don't know what to do." He muttered, nuzzling into her neck, needing to be close to her to know that she was safe – that he was safe.

Speaking firmly, Elizabeth held him close. "You do it every day. You work to make sure that that doesn't happen to someone else's kid. You don't let those kids be forgotten. People need to know what these terrorists did. That's how we stop it."

"Is State doing anything?"

She smoothed down his hair. He must have run his fingers through it during the day because it was messy. "We've gotten some memos about it from diplomats in the area. Some social media stuff from the public."

"What do you need before you can do something about it?" Henry's voice sounded determined.

"If I know who's in the group or where they are, I can bring it up with the foreign minister or talk to the president about a drone strike…"

"I just want them stopped."

"I know." She soothed. "And we'll get them. We will." She hoped her words were reassuring.

Henry still felt unsatisfied. He could tell his voice was flat. "It's never going to be enough for their families."

"No. But it's enough that you're doing your part to make it stop."

"Is it?" He looked up at her, needing to know if she was only trying to make him feel better.

"It is." She confirmed. "This is what you're supposed to do, babe. You gather all the information you can and hand it off so that we can find the most efficient way to stop them. We have this process for a reason."

"You won't let it get lost in the shuffle?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "I'll make sure the president listens to what you guys come up with."

"Okay." He settled back against her, relaxing and allowing her to hold him.

Running her hands along his arms and back, Elizabeth asked, "Feel better?"

"Yeah. At least I feel like there's something to do."

"I understand that."

Henry glanced at the clock and started to extricate himself from Elizabeth's hold. "It's late. I should let you sleep."

"Why don't you stay here and relax a little more, okay? I don't want you going home and getting drunk over this."

Henry shifted guiltily. That was exactly what he had been thinking. "Okay. I guess I can stay."

"I'll let you go when you're sure you won't drink."

Elizabeth grabbed the remote and reclined on the sofa, letting Henry rest against her, pillowing his head on her breasts.

Henry was glad that she was keeping him from drinking. If he had gone home, he would have had to sit and stare at the bottle for twenty minutes deciding if it was worth it. He probably would have given up at some point and poured a glass. But knowing Elizabeth was looking after him, he could let himself get tired out away from the temptation, and then all he'd have to do when he got home was fall into bed.

* * *

In the aftermath of such a big panic attack, Elizabeth could tell she wasn't quite back to normal, although after her conversation with Henry, she felt more like herself. Elizabeth Adams was a woman of action. She liked to get things done. It was when she felt boxed in that she got so upset. But helping Henry, and seeing that he was affected by the more difficult parts of their jobs… It made her feel better. Even if she couldn't fix everything, she could make Henry feel some better, and that was worth a lot.

Isabelle had been persistently checking on her every day by text. Every time, Isabelle wanted to come by in person, but Elizabeth had always managed to dissuade her. However, her powers of persuasion must have lapsed a little since she was still shaky from the panic.

For here they were, sitting in Elizabeth's office having a "picnic" of sorts. Their picnic consisted of healthy salads and smoothies. Isabelle had always been something of a health nut. Elizabeth didn't mind eating salad, but she wanted something a little more filling. When Isabelle left, she was going to ask Blake to find her some breadsticks or a big pretzel… Anything… A giant soft pretzel sounded amazing. With lots of melted cheese. Or maybe covered in cinnamon sugar…

Elizabeth was musing silently about baked goods when Isabelle interrupted.

"You can only put me off by text for so long. I had to come check on you in person."

"I'm fine, really." Elizabeth muttered, not looking at her friend. She felt emotionally cold. All she wanted to do was look out the window at the street below. Those people out there were _normal._ They didn't have their friends checking in on them like they were a piece of china about to break… a bomb about to go off… Those people out there were responsible adults who went to work, and then went home to their families. They didn't spend weekends in the hospital getting self-inflicted injuries stitched up. When those people on the street hung out with friends, it was because they all wanted to have a good time – not because one of them was a baby who needed looking after.

"Any more cutting?"

 _There it is. That's all they care about now. No one sees me as me once they know about the cutting. That's all I am now._ "Isabelle…"

"So that's a yes."

"But not as bad, I promise." Elizabeth conceded. She could feel her frustration rising, but she tried to keep a handle on it.

Isabelle waited a moment. "You're trying?"

"Yeah. I'm really trying. It's just going to take some time."

"And Henry knows?"

"Henry knows. He's been so great about it. He keeps trying to get me to talk about whatever it is instead of cutting." She smiled softly to herself at the thought of Henry's efforts. He was doing it because he loved her. His concern was endearing. From the doctors at the hospital, and even Isabelle to some extent, their concern was out of responsibility – not love. It was a fundamental difference, and one that annoyed her.

"And that's helping…?"

Anger flared in Elizabeth. "I already told you… I'm trying. Can't you just leave it at that?"

"No. I can't." Isabelle looked away, smoothing her hair down to calm her nerves. "Look, you scared the hell out of me when you were in the hospital. I don't understand how your life is worth so little to you, but I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

"I'm not suicidal!" _Why can't they understand?_

"Why on earth do you expect me to believe that after what you did?" Isabelle couldn't help the anger rising in her, meeting Elizabeth's.

"Because it's the truth!"

Elizabeth turned away to the window, looking out at the blessedly _normal_ people. _Why can't I just be down there? They don't have people criticizing their every move._

"Is it really? Because I don't know many non-suicidal people with jagged cuts all up and down their arms. Non-suicidal people don't bleed out on bathroom floors." Isabelle's voice dropped delicately, the seriousness of her words quelling her anger.

Elizabeth hung her head. _I'm not suicidal. At least I don't think I am. I mean, there are plenty of times I wonder what people would say if I just died… But everyone thinks that. I don't actually want to kill myself._

 _Do I?_

 _I certainly wouldn't be that upset if I died._

 _Not that I'd be there to be upset. That's kinda the point._

Realizing Isabelle was still standing behind her, staring in trepidation, waiting for a response, Elizabeth pulled herself together. _Now is not the time._

"Isabelle…" She started, still facing the window, picking her words very carefully. "I'm really sorry you were put in that situation. I never meant for you to get thrown in the middle of this."

"Bess…"

"And I hear you. I know I need to get this thing under control. I promise I'm trying."

 _Just go away. I'm fine. What do I have to say to get you to go away?_

Hearing the sincerity in her friend's voice made Isabelle soften. "I know you're trying. I'm not here to lecture you…"

Elizabeth turned and gave her a look.

Isabelle laughed. "Okay, maybe I am. But I just… I'm here for you… You can call me. If you want to come stay over… I'm here."

"Thanks." It was all Elizabeth could really think to say.

"Well, you've got my number. Call me."

Isabelle left her friend's office knowing that there really wasn't anything she could do besides offer support. It was up to Elizabeth. Either she'd cut herself again or she wouldn't. Isabelle couldn't stop her.


	19. When your wings give out on you

Chapter 18: When your wings give out on you

A/N: Here's your next chapter. I only have a few edits to make on the next chapter, and I should be able to get those done within a week. So don't hate me about the ending. I won't make you wait too long.

But feel free to let me know how mean I am in the reviews ;)

* * *

Henry stood in the drugstore on Saturday morning, thinking about his odd living situation. He had neglected to make sure he had enough shampoo and other basic supplies because he spent so much time at Elizabeth's townhouse. His own apartment was really only used for sleeping. Of course, it was a D.C. studio, and it had only been designed for sleeping. With Elizabeth, though, Henry wanted to have more space to relax. When he was by himself, he didn't need a separate living and dining room. But when he was with Elizabeth, the extra space gave them formality and flexibility.

More space was needed when two people lived together. He had never thought about it before because he hadn't lived with anyone since he lived in Marine barracks, and that was a different thing entirely.

Picking up deodorant and toilet cleaner, Henry wondered how much longer they would keep up the pretense of his apartment. It _was_ a pretense, after all. The only reason they weren't living together full time was the sex had been horrible. And he needed a place to get drunk without Elizabeth seeing.

Henry still couldn't help but blame himself for Elizabeth being unwilling to sleep with him.

Shaking himself, he realized it might still be a while longer that he would have to stock his apartment with essentials.

Once he had gathered all the things he needed, he made his way towards the counter. Before he got there, he thought he saw a familiar flash of blond hair on the other side of the toothbrush aisle. He looked down the aisle and saw a familiar bodyguard on each end. They were trying to be unobtrusive, but Henry could recognize them anywhere.

"Elizabeth!" He called out to her and rounded the aisle.

Elizabeth stood in front of the wall of products hanging from metal spindles. She had to shop just like anyone else, so she stood with Matt watching over her, picking out the things she needed. She had already gathered her weekly gallon of milk and was making her last selection before heading to the checkout.

She wasn't self-conscious about buying razor blades anymore. In the beginning, she had been, but not after so many months of buying them. Plenty of people bought them for a variety of purposes, and it wasn't weird. She did try to make sure she wasn't photographed while buying them, but that was about the only hesitation she had anymore.

Her razor blades had run out a little sooner than she had expected. It bothered her a lot that Henry had been drinking more. Sure, she had tried to keep him from going home to drink earlier in the week, but she had seen him the next day, and she knew it hadn't done any good. He was still drinking enough to give him hangovers. And it was probably because of her, she thought. She had probably freaked him out with that panic attack.

If she loved Henry as much as she said she did, she needed to keep herself under control for his sake. Besides, he had been so upset about that school shooting… The best she could do for him was be there for him and not weigh him down with her own problems.

Seeing Henry, Matt stepped aside for him without thinking twice. Henry was not a security risk.

Elizabeth jumped, surprised and more than a little guilty. Why did Henry always have to catch her in compromising positions? And when she was just trying to protect him… Her hands held a box of razor blades and another box of white rolls of gauze bandages. She looked up at Henry, knowing she couldn't hide from him her intentions. While most people would have assumed she needed the razor blades for shaving, Henry knew different.

Henry took in her flinch when he called her name and the shifty way she was behaving. He looked at the items in her hands and understood what it was he had walked in on. She was restocking supplies just like he was.

"Oh," he said, realizing the situation.

"I'll catch you later?" She tried to keep her voice perky, hoping Henry would let her go without saying anything.

"Wait," he said quietly. "Elizabeth… come on. Let's go get some coffee, huh?" He wanted to distract her and figure out if there was anything he could do to help.

"I'm busy, Henry. I need to go…"

He grabbed her arm, "No. Please don't buy that stuff. You don't need it. You can always call me and I'll be there."

"Henry, this isn't the place…" she looked around worried that a reporter would catch them. She didn't want her detail to have to worry about her, and if they were alerted that anything was wrong…

"You're right. So put those down and let's go home."

Home. _Home._ He'd meant her townhouse, but he'd said _home._

"Henry, you can't save me. You keep trying to fix me, but you can't."

"Baby, I'm not trying to fix you…"

"Yes, you are. You think you can stop me, but you can't. I want this, Henry. This is what I _want_." She wasn't sure if she believed her own words or not. Was this really what she wanted? The answer didn't matter. At the moment, all she wanted was to get out of the drugstore. Her mind was on high alert, and she couldn't process anything Henry was saying. If she could get home and calm down, she could listen to him. Out in public, she was a different person. She had to keep on her Secretary face in case anything happened.

Henry backed up a step, hurt that she had rebuked him. It took all his willpower not to pull her into his arms and whisk her away. She was right, though. He couldn't stop her from cutting if she really wanted to. He was impotent. On that and so many other things.

He pleaded with her one last time. "Please don't do this." His gaze drifted to the floor.

"I have to. I'm sorry."

She turned on her heel and rushed to pay for her things as quickly as possible.

It was a few seconds before Henry realized she had gone. He probably could have run to catch her if he had wanted to, but he could tell she didn't want him. Instead, he could only hang his head. He wanted more than anything to help Elizabeth, and the fact that he couldn't made him feel horrible – good for nothing.

He made his way in a daze back to the checkout counter. Without thinking, he added a bottle of alcohol to his purchases. He didn't even check what kind he had grabbed.

After paying for his items, he made his way to his car and drove home. _Home_. This time that word meant his own pocket square of an apartment.

Had he been trying to save Elizabeth? Had he been enabling her cutting? Had he spent so much time trying to help her that he had only made her dwell on it? If she hadn't had to deal with him, would she have gotten better on her own by now?

How had he really helped her, anyway? He sat with her through one panic attack. That wasn't really so much. Panic attacks always ended on their own eventually, anyway. She would have been fine without him. Or maybe she would have cut. But it's not like Henry had been able to keep her from cutting so much she nearly died.

Even if he _had_ been trying to save her, he was doing an appalling job of it.

Getting home, he pulled the alcohol out of his shopping bag and set it on the counter. He poured himself a glass and sat down on the couch.

He swirled the clear liquid in the glass, not bothering to smell it before knocking it back. It made him nearly choke. The taste was hideous. He stared at the glass as if it had betrayed him. It tasted like a candle. Picking up the bottle, he read the label.

 _Pumpkin Spice Vodka_

He laughed in spite of himself. Vodka was not his drink of choice, and he certainly wouldn't have picked out pumpkin spice vodka.

He stood up and got a bottle of whiskey from his closet. That would work. He wasn't even sure why he had bought the vodka. Probably only so he would have some company on the ride home. Some promise of relief to come.

As he drank his glass of whiskey, he could feel the alcohol start to relax him. It wasn't Elizabeth's fault – what happened in the drugstore. She had just been minding her own business. Why should Henry want her to give up her cutting when he still had a closet full of whiskey?

It wasn't even necessarily his fault, either. His dad had always told him that he just wasn't cut out to be a family man. _Real_ men worked in a trade. _Real_ men worked with their hands and provided for their families. Henry hadn't been able to keep a girlfriend. And now he couldn't keep the one he had from choosing to cut herself rather than spending time with him.

Elizabeth needed him to be something he wasn't. He didn't have his life together, and he wasn't strong enough to keep her safe. She did more in one day than he did in a week, and he couldn't compete with that. He had no doubts that there was a man out there for her, but he wasn't strong enough to be what she needed. The thought hurt him more than anything. He was desperately in love with her, even if they both had their bad days.

She was intelligent and kind and dedicated and so capable and resourceful it made his heart throb at the thought of it. Henry knew she was, without question, the most sincere, earnest employee the government had. It was sexy that she stood by her convictions and refused to give up. But he couldn't compete with her. She was out of his league. There was really nothing remarkable about Henry that should make her interested in him. Especially not compared to the kind of people she interacted with every day. He wasn't smarter than the National Security Council. He wasn't more attractive than the military guards she passed every day. He wasn't even better with a gun than her own security team.

For a couple weeks, he had almost convinced himself that he could keep her from cutting, but the events of the last hour had shattered that impression. She would still have panic attacks, and she would still cut, and there was nothing Henry could do to keep the woman he loved from being in pain. In the aftermath of her visit to the hospital, he had tried to be the strong one. He had tried to ignore his own problems, thinking that if he helped her, it would help him, too. He hadn't been able to keep Elizabeth from cutting. If anything, he had just made her mad.

No, he didn't have it together. He didn't have anything together.

His thoughts began to tumble rapidly in his head.

It wasn't even just Elizabeth. He had wanted to drink all day. That morning, he had gotten an invitation to a UVA alumni weekend in the mail.

 _Families welcome._

Families welcome. All his former classmates would be bringing wives and children. Or they would bring parents and siblings. He didn't have a wife or children to bring, and he had certainly bungled the last attempt he had made to bring his father to a UVA event.

Henry knew his father hadn't killed himself because Henry hadn't brought him to the dinner at UVA, but it still struck him. If he had been more in touch with his parents and siblings, would he have been able to find a family of his own? Would he have the wife and children to bring to this reunion?

Of course he couldn't bring any of this up with Elizabeth. She didn't need to hear about how bad he was at family life. He needed to convince her that he would be there for her – the husband she always wanted. Besides, she was so delicate right now when it came to the cutting... He couldn't pile on his own worries when she was barely able to keep her head above water. When she was feeling better, he might be able to talk to her. No, he had to be strong for her. If she thought that he wasn't talking to her because he was worried about her, she would hide her cutting from him. And after she ended up in the hospital, he couldn't risk her hiding it from him.

He drained his whiskey and poured another, feeling the room getting foggier. Even if he couldn't fix Elizabeth or anything that had happened to her, he could at least fix the rampaging thoughts through his head. He could get those thoughts to slow down to a point he could ignore them.

All it would take would be another few glasses of whiskey.

* * *

Elizabeth put away her razors and bandages, minus one each. She would take more supplies to the State Department to keep in her office. Just in case.

Who was she kidding? _Just in case._ More like just in case the sun rose in the east.

Just in case Henry drank again. Just in case she couldn't take away his pain…

She relaxed in an armchair in the bedroom, enjoying the feeling of detachment she got after cutting. None of it mattered. The scene at the drugstore, the look of devastation on Henry's face, the school shootings in Africa... her inability to make Henry feel better about those shootings… her inability to keep him from drinking… none of it. For a couple hours, or maybe less, she would be immune. She would be completely free of the anxiety that continually clawed at her.

She didn't even care to turn on the TV. There wouldn't be anything on there that she would care about.

Maybe she would take a nap. That would be nice. She so rarely got to nap. Most of the time she felt like there was always something to be done, even if it didn't really need to be done at all.

Getting up from her chair, Elizabeth allowed her body to flop gently onto the bed. She lay back against the pillow, cocooned in her apathy, reveling in her disinterest. If she didn't care, nothing could hurt her.

She dozed for about an hour, waking when the endorphins from her cuts could no longer keep her thoughts at bay.

Henry. She had to go apologize. She shouldn't have said what she had. Her words had been unfair, and she knew it. Now, she wished she could take them back. She wished she could have waited a day to get her tools. Why had she needed razors today? Couldn't she have let Henry think he had helped? Couldn't she have given him that? Wouldn't it have been kinder?

Or would it have been more deceitful to let him think he had kept her from cutting when he hadn't?

She had no idea. But she knew she had to apologize.

Henry was so honest and eager to help. It was one of the things she loved about him. He would set himself aside and help someone the second they needed it. She couldn't repay him by yelling at him in a drugstore because he had been trying to help.

* * *

"Henry?" Elizabeth called out as she let herself into his apartment. It had taken her a while to get herself ready to go, but she was ready to apologize for their encounter in the drugstore.

Opening the door, she felt her eyes water as the smell of alcohol assaulted her. It smelled like a bottle of whiskey had spilled all over everything. She groaned internally, knowing what that had to mean.

"Henry...? Where are you?" She called again.

Elizabeth looked around the living room, finding nothing unusual but an empty bottle of whiskey and a glass.

She looked around the apartment. There weren't many places he could be. The main room had a couch, TV, and small bed shoved against the wall. The couch faced the TV, and a dresser stood behind the couch, dividing the room into living and sleeping space. At the far end of the room, a tiny kitchen and bathroom branched off from a short hallway. The kitchen had a breakfast bar that looked over the main room.

She walked past the couch and looked to see if he had fallen behind it. He wasn't there. He must be in the bathroom, she thought.

Getting to the bathroom, she realized the door was open. "Henry?" She called for a third time.

The sight that greeted her was shocking. Henry was slumped on his side against the bathtub next to a pool of vomit. His skin was deathly pale, almost blue, and he didn't seem to be breathing. It looked like he had tried to make it to the toilet, but he hadn't gotten quite that far. He looked to be covered in sweat. His hair was wet, and his skin glistened sickly.

"Oh god, Henry! Henry! Wake up!" She cried, throwing herself at him and shaking his shoulders. Her first thought after the initial panic was _Henry, you can't die on me before I get a chance to apologize. That's not fair._

She heard Henry groan slightly, and she had never been more relieved to hear him make noise. He was alive. At least he was alive. His skin was still blue, and he was still only breathing a few times a minute, with long and uneven gaps in between. But he was alive. For now.

Elizabeth pulled out her cellphone and dialed. She needed help. Henry needed help.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I think Henry's got alcohol poisoning. His skin is pale, and he's only breathing every now and then." Elizabeth realized after she started talking that the woman on the other end of the phone had no idea who Henry was. But she didn't have time for that now.

"What's the address?"

Elizabeth relayed their location and tried to keep Henry in an upright position. It wasn't easy with one hand holding the phone. Henry certainly wasn't helping. He was about as stiff as a rag. His skin felt cold to the touch, and Elizabeth remembered reading somewhere that alcohol lowered the body temperature.

"I'll get an ambulance dispatched immediately. Try to keep him upright or on his side so he doesn't choke on his vomit. Make sure he doesn't stop breathing. If he does, start chest compressions. The ambulance is on its way. Feel free to stay on the line with me until it gets there."

"Thank you." Elizabeth set the phone aside and went back to Henry. She held him upright against the side of the bathtub. He kept weaving to either side, even as he sat.

"Henry?"

She heard a grunt in response and saw his eyes flicker.

"Liz'bess?" He slurred groggily.

"I'm here, Henry. Stay awake, okay?"

He groaned and nearly fell over as he vomited again.

Elizabeth closed her eyes against the sympathetic urge to vomit. The smell alone was enough to turn her stomach. But she had to make sure he kept breathing. She had to make sure he was okay until the ambulance arrived. Unable to stay in the tiny bathroom with the smell of vomit everywhere, though, she wrapped one of Henry's arms around her shoulders and stood up, using every ounce of muscle she had. Henry was not a small man, by any means, and his dead weight was almost overwhelming on her thin frame.

With great effort, she managed to drag him to the couch and let him slump onto it.

"Henry, you still with me?"

He didn't answer, and Elizabeth could see drool running unchecked down the side of his face. He was unconscious. She held a hand to his chest to count his breaths. Fear coursed through her when there were gaps in his breathing. She could count to ten between his breaths, and that couldn't be good.


	20. Seems like everywhere you turn

Chapter 19: Seems like everywhere you turn, catastrophe reigns

A/N: Sorry for the delay, y'all!

My apologies, but I'm putting this story on an indefinite hiatus. I do plan to finish it eventually. Just not right now. I'm channelling Elizabeth a bit more than is good for me. I've got grad school starting in a week and a job search going, and I really need to focus on those things.

If I do decide to abandon the story, I'll post everything I've got as is so someone else can take over if they're so inclined.

As always, thank you to everyone who reviews!

* * *

"Henry, you still with me?"

He didn't answer, and Elizabeth could see drool running unchecked down the side of his face. He was unconscious. She held a hand to his chest to count his breaths. Fear coursed through her when there were gaps in his breathing. She could count to ten between his breaths, and that couldn't be good.

* * *

Finally, the ambulance arrived, and three paramedics entered the apartment quickly, but calmly. They looked like they did this a lot.

"Ma'am, have you been drinking?" One of the paramedics led her a few steps away.

"No."

"Do you know how much he drank?"

"No. I wasn't here. I found him in the bathroom." She watched one of the EMTs step into the bathroom and wrinkle his nose at the smell.

"Has he been unconscious this whole time?"

Elizabeth turned back to the paramedic who was speaking. She could hear the other paramedics asking Henry if he knew who the president was.

"Uh, no. He was awake for a minute or two. He recognized me."

"Okay. We're going to transport him to the hospital. They'll need to monitor him and get some fluids in him."

Looking over the woman's shoulder, Elizabeth saw Henry groggily blink his eyes and grunt something that sounded like "Tucson, Arizona."

The paramedics with him laughed. They were monitoring him closely, doing their jobs professionally, but Henry's drunken answers were still funny.

"Let me try." Another one said. "Sir, can you tell me who the Secretary of State is?" They laughed again as Henry blinked up at them without the slightest bit of comprehension.

Elizabeth didn't wait to hear Henry's response. With as much force as she could muster, she said. "I want to come with you." It came out as more of a plea than a command.

"Ma'am, we can follow behind, but I can't let you go alone, and there's not enough room for me to go with you."

Elizabeth didn't know when Frank had entered the apartment, but he spoke now, calm and sure, like always.

"Oh." Elizabeth thought Frank's steady presence was oddly like Henry's... Protective and steady, but still soft and approachable. She needed Henry back. Right now his presence was anything but calm and soothing. She needed _her_ Henry back. _Her_ Henry wouldn't get drunk like this...

"Don't worry," the paramedic encouraged. "We'll take care of him. He should be fine. You can follow right behind us."

"O-okay. Okay." She gathered her purse on autopilot and followed Frank out to her motorcade.

As she was getting in the SUV, shivering slightly in the cool evening air, she could see Henry being loaded into the ambulance. He was strapped to the gurney. One of the paramedics was holding a blue mask over his face and squeezing a bag of air. Elizabeth had to look away. People only needed breathing support when there was a chance they could die. She let the quickly fading light of the sunset stream across her face, making her squint. This was not how she had anticipated spending her evening.

She quickly checked her purse for the supplies she knew she would need when she got to the hospital. Feeling her razors and alcohol swabs calmed her a bit. Whatever happened, she could deal with it.

* * *

Elizabeth thought about what an odd thing it was, really, to cut in a hospital. Some people got paid to cut other people. Surgeons went to school for years and years to learn to properly cut people open. And those people paid lots of money.

Cutting could be medically necessary.

Just cut out the bad stuff that wasn't needed. Like a cancer. Cut out the bad feelings that would only poison her and keep her from functioning...

Cutting let her stay sane... Otherwise, she knew she would be an emotional mess.

After seeing Henry wheeled into the hospital and immediately hooked up to countless tubes and monitors, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel that cutting was medically necessary. She knew she couldn't cut a lot. She had to be ready if Henry needed her, after all. But a little bit would help keep her calm.

Henry had been put on oxygen, and they had taken samples of blood and urine to test. He still had that deathly blue tinge to him, and he hadn't woken up since he'd gotten there. She had heard the doctors trying to decide if pumping his stomach was necessary or not. They were worried his blood sugar was too low and that he might slip into a hypoglycemic coma.

It felt to her like they were treating him like a car with a bad tank of gas. Some kind of machine without proper fuel. Take out the alcohol, add in glucose and vitamins... He had so many tubes and wires coming from him monitoring his heart, pumping fluids through him... Elizabeth didn't know what it all was, but it all made some hideous beeping noise. The monitors connected to him did not seem happy, judging by the flashing lights and incessant sounds.

But Henry wasn't a machine. He was her boyfriend. And even _boyfriend_ didn't seem to be a good label for him. It felt too childish. Teenagers had boyfriends. College students had boyfriends. But fifty year old women did not. Fifty year old women were supposed to have everything figured out. Life was supposed to settle down and get easier. People were supposed to relax into a routine...

Well, Elizabeth had a routine. It just wasn't bridge or quilting circle.

* * *

Henry woke up to see Elizabeth curled up in the chair beside his bed.

"Elizabeth?" he croaked.

She roused herself and grinned in relief that he was finally awake. She hovered over his bed, not sure of what to do.

"I'm here. How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." He groaned.

"Well, that's understandable."

Putting together more of what must have happened to land him in the hospital, he asked, "You okay?"

It always did something to her stomach when he asked her if she was okay. A quick moment of both anxiety and relief. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him how scared she had been - and still was. But now wasn't the time. It was never the time. It was always so much more complicated than just answering a question truthfully. It still touched her and calmed her. So many people asked how she was and never really cared about the answer. Henry cared about her answer, even when he was lying in a hospital bed.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just not used to being on this side of the hospital bed."

"Hmm?" He was still confused.

Elizabeth explained, "Well last time I was in this hospital, I was the one in the bed."

"Oh. Right..." Henry understood the comparison she was making and closed his eyes, chastised.

She stroked his hair letting him know she wasn't mad. "Your doctor wanted to come in and talk to you when you woke up. You feel up to that? Or do you want to sleep some more?"

Without opening his eyes, he answered. "Give me a little while to sleep. I don't think I could stay awake for a whole conversation."

"Okay, babe. You get some more sleep," she soothed him.

Before he fell asleep, he wanted to know something. "Have you slept since... How long have I been in here?"

Elizabeth smiled at his sincere care for her. "Just overnight, and yes. I've gotten some catnaps. That chair is surprisingly comfortable."

"You should go ho-"

Elizabeth cut him off. "I'm not going anywhere." She knew how hard it had been to be alone in the hospital, and she wasn't going to let Henry go through that. She loved him too much, even if her feelings were still a jumbled mess.

Seeing the steely glint in Elizabeth's eyes, Henry dropped it. He could feel himself slipping back into oblivion. The last thing he saw before falling asleep again was Elizabeth kissing his forehead and muttering a quiet, "Get some sleep, baby."

Elizabeth watched nervously as Henry slipped back into unconsciousness. His breaths were even and steady, though, and that calmed her. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was past time for lunch. Looking at Henry, she knew he wouldn't be in any shape to go to work the next day. He certainly wouldn't be up to a Monday.

Going into the hall, she pulled out her phone and dialed. Putting her phone to her ear, Elizabeth listened to it ring twice before it was picked up.

"Hello, ma'am?" Nadine answered.

"Nadine, um, I need to work from home tomorrow." She cringed at the awkwardness in her voice. Having never taken a day off as Secretary of State, it was something new. She just hoped Nadine wouldn't ask too many questions.

Surprised by the statement, Nadine tried to keep her voice even. She had worked for plenty of people in DC who liked to work from home. It was out of the ordinary for Elizabeth Adams, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for most people. "Okay, ma'am, we can make that work. No problem. Do you need anything?"

"No, it's alright. Thanks, Nadine." Elizabeth responded quickly.

"Of course. See you Tuesday."

Elizabeth hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been easier than she was expecting. Raising her phone again, she dialed another number.

"Hello, you've got Mike."

The man on the other end of the phone sounded jovial, and Elizabeth smiled. "Mike, this is Elizabeth."

"Bess! Good to hear from you! What can I do for you?"

Ever since Elizabeth had met Mike Stamford when she started at the CIA, he had always been there to help. "I need to pull Henry McCord off of you tomorrow."

"You running some op?" Even though neither of them were in the CIA anymore, Mike couldn't help but ask.

Elizabeth chuckled. In a way, she was. "Mike, you know I can't tell you that. But if you ever need me to bail you out of an Armenian prison, you know I'll be there."

Mike laughed. That particular story had been told at so many Spy Reunion dinners it had become legend.

"No need. There's a reason I got out of field work."

"So I can keep Henry tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I can spare him for at least a day or two. Just send him back with all his fingers and toes." Mike's tone was teasing.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Mike, just what do you think we do at State?"

"I'm sure I don't want to know what all diplomacy involves."

Glad for the laugh, Elizabeth thanked her friend. "I appreciate you lending me Henry. Let me know if you need anything."

"No problem, Bess. Don't work too hard."

"Thanks, Mike."

Hanging up, she leaned back against the wall. Covering for Henry wasn't that big of a deal, but it was a new level of throwing her neck out for her boyfriend. Sighing to herself, she reentered his room.

* * *

Henry woke to Elizabeth shaking him gently. He could see the pink light of evening streaming through the now open blinds on the window.

"Henry? Baby, wake up. The doctor wants to talk to you."

"Hmm?"

She bent over and murmured in his ear. "It's just the doctor. Wake up."

"I'm awake." He pushed himself up, and Elizabeth helped him get the pillows situated behind him.

A slightly pudgy middle-aged man stood in front of them, smiling. He had a clipboard in his hand, but he wasn't looking at it. His eyes were focused on Elizabeth's hand that was unconsciously stroking Henry's shoulder.

"Hi, Henry. I'm Dr. Strenlow. How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks." He tried to smile.

Dr. Strenlow took a second to judge his patient before seeming satisfied and then looking down at the clipboard. "Good, good. Glad to hear it. We're going to keep you on fluids, but I'm happy with your glucose numbers. I'll get you to eat something here in a bit, but I'll let you go home in the morning. I just want to talk to you a little bit first."

Henry closed his eyes and tried to keep from groaning. He knew what was coming.

The doctor continued. "I want to talk about your use of alcohol. Can you tell me how much you drink in an average week?"

"It depends…" he evaded answering.

"Okay. On a night that you drink, how many drinks do you have?" Pen poised at the ready, Dr. Strenlow waited for Henry's answer.

"I mean, the worst nights are probably ten or fifteen, I guess."

The doctor wrote down the information and then looked up. "You know a binge is defined as five or more drinks in a night?"

Henry grunted. He hadn't known that. Five drinks seemed like nothing, really. In a whole night, especially...

Holding his pen expectantly, Dr. Strenlow asked. "How many nights in the last month would you say you've had five or more drinks?"

Again, he avoided answering. "I have a high tolerance…."

"How many nights?"

"Probably fifteen or more."

Elizabeth's heart sank as she realized that Henry must have been going home to his apartment and drinking, even if he stayed sober when they were together.

Finishing with writing on the clipboard, Dr. Strenlow started speaking in an authoritative, but not unkind, voice. "That is medically classified as heavy drinking, and that's going to have physical and emotional effects on you. Heart disease, liver disease, stroke, anemia, sexual dysfunction… the list goes on."

Henry looked down, mind reeling, and slightly embarrassed. Somehow his mind blocked out the first part of that list. But what was that last thing? Was the drinking the reason he hadn't been able to have normal sex with Elizabeth?

The doctor continued. "I'm sure you've already noticed some other symptoms. Fatigue, loss of stamina, cold sweats and shakiness, craving a drink at inopportune times…"

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, okay?" Henry snapped.

"There are resources available…" Dr. Strenlow softened his tone. "Help is out there. They won't judge you. Seeking help is a sign of strength."

Regaining his composure, Henry was ready for the conversation to end. "Thank you. I'm really fine, though."

Giving him a hard look, Dr. Strenlow made one last pronouncement. "I can't make you get help, but I'm just going to say this. You need to seek help now before the long term effects become unavoidable and irreversible."

Henry nodded and kept his eyes on his blanket.

Dr. Strenlow could tell he had said as much as Henry was ready to hear. He looked up to Elizabeth and said, "I'll be around again in a few hours to check on you. Be sure to let the nurse know if you need anything, but you all should be fine from here on out. We'll check glucose levels again before we let you go home, but that should be it."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said as the doctor left Henry's room. She sat down facing Henry, but she didn't say anything. She was waiting for him to say something. Knowing him, he probably had plenty of thoughts about what had just happened.

Henry looked at his hands, then at the beeping monitors beside him, then at the floor, the door, the sink... anywhere but at Elizabeth. Was she mad? Would she lecture him? Had she heard what the doctor said about alcohol causing impotence?

When Henry hadn't spoken for a full minute, Elizabeth couldn't help herself. He looked so broken – so fragile. He had tried so hard to be strong, and he had failed. The alcohol got the better of him. Now that he was sobered up and still pale and shaky from the toxins in his body, she could see how pitiable he was. A wave of protectiveness swept over her, and she pressed a kiss to his hairline. Massaging the spot she had just kissed with her thumb, she kissed him on the cheek, hoping she could somehow convey to him that she loved him.

At one time, she would have been disgusted by the idea of kissing a man who had nearly died of alcohol poisoning. But when it was Henry, things were different. He wasn't disgusting. He just needed a little help. Really, a lot of help... But his personality was still so beautiful he could never disgust her.

She sighed, knowing she had to start the conversation, but wishing they could live in companionable silence.

"You drank because of me, didn't you?" She kept her head down, not wanting to see her words confirmed.

Henry's head shot up. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and then looked away.

"Not _just_ because of you..." He started. He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault. And it wasn't _her_. It was the whole situation. Just as he was about to try to explain, she cut him off.

"Yeah," She acknowledged.

They waited a of couple minutes, both hoping the other would speak.

Finally, Elizabeth broke the silence. She knew now was the time to be brave, but part of her screamed at her for the words coming out of her mouth. She knew they could never be taken back. And they would hurt. Henry didn't deserve any more pain... But wasn't that what had gotten them in trouble? That they tried so hard not to hurt each other that they let things spiral out of control? No. Someone had to put a stop to this.

"We can't keep doing this, Henry. You keep me from cutting only to go home and drink. Or you can't stop me from cutting and you go drink. Or... I can't stop you from drinking and I cut... None of it is good."

He knew she was right. Not that he knew how to fix it. He could feel tears start to form in the corners of his eyes.

Elizabeth saw the tears and realized that Henry had only been conscious for about an hour. He needed more rest. Their conversation could wait.

She kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "You get some more sleep. I'll go check on getting you some real food. We'll talk about that later. First, we need to get you home."

"I need to call in sick tomorrow, I guess," Henry realized.

"I already took care of it, babe," Elizabeth reassured him.

Henry nodded, suddenly aware that his body was still sore and fatigued. Elizabeth helped him arrange his pillows so he could sleep, and after waiting only a couple minutes, Henry could feel himself drifting off.

* * *

After another night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, Henry felt stronger, and he was ready to get out of the undecorated hospital room. Even though he had only been conscious for a few hours of his stay in the room, he was already tired of it.

As Doctor Strenlow entered the room again, he smiled to see Elizabeth and Henry sitting side by side in bed reading the morning paper together.

"You two ready to go home?" He asked brightly, but it sounded a little fake. He was at the end of his twelve hour shift, and he had already processed dozens of patients.

Elizabeth could hear the fatigue in the doctor's voice, but she didn't care and grinned at Henry. "What do you think? You ready?" She elbowed him gently. Now that it was time for him to go home, she wanted to put the incident behind them. She had managed to convince herself that his getting that drunk was a one-time thing. After all, she had no plans to cut herself bad enough to end up in the hospital, so Henry probably hadn't intended to get that drunk, either.

She didn't want to upset their relationship by pushing too hard. She needed Henry, and she couldn't stand to do anything that would jeopardize what they had. After saying her piece the previous night, she was afraid she would mess everything up.

"Yes, please. Get me out of here," Henry said forcefully.

"Well, I'll get the discharge paperwork started," Dr. Strenlow said, laughing a little at his patient's enthusiasm while checking off boxes on the clipboard in his hand.

"I'll go tell Frank we're ready to go." Elizabeth got up from the bed, grinning, and headed out of the room.

Henry watched her go, knowing now was his chance to ask Dr. Strenlow a question without Elizabeth hearing.

"Doctor, um, when you said sexual dysfunction is a symptom..." Henry's face flushed beet red.

The doctor didn't find the situation awkward at all. He answered questions like that multiple times a day. "Yeah? Have you been having issues with that?"

He still couldn't look the doctor in the eye. "Yeah. Um... is that a permanent thing?"

Dr. Strenlow smiled to himself, knowing Henry wasn't looking. Some men were so predictable. Ready to destroy their bodies until it affected their sexual performance.

"Not usually, no. The longer the alcohol abuse has been going on, the more chance of long term effects. I can't say for sure, but given how long your alcohol problem has been going, if you stopped drinking now, I'd say you'd be back to normal in a few months to a year."

"Thank you," Henry muttered. With his question answered, he was ready to end the conversation and never speak of such embarrassing things again.

"Of course. I'll give you my card in case you have any more questions." He handed Henry a thin business card. "Oh, and just so you know, alcohol use can reduce sperm count and health as well as the ability to maintain an erection. So if you two are thinking about children, keep that in mind."

Henry stared blankly as the doctor left the room. He hadn't been thinking about children at all, and as far as he knew, neither had Elizabeth. It still felt like a blow. What if Elizabeth _had_ wanted children? What if she still did? That was something she could have reasonably expected him to give her, and because of the alcohol, he might not even be capable of basic human reproduction.

That was also a conversation they should have had by now... There were some really practical issues they had neglected discussing.

Before Henry had time to dwell on the matter, Elizabeth came back in. She had a spring in her step that was inexplicable given the uncomfortable night she had spent dozing in the chair.

"We're all set. You ready?" She chirped.

Henry didn't understand why she was so peppy, but her happiness was infectious. He was glad she was no longer pushing a heavy conversation. "Yeah, babe. I'm ready." Henry smiled, letting her help him get dressed.


	21. But you'll never fly

Chapter 20: But you'll never fly with someone else's wings

A/N: This fic is still in hiatus. I'm not committing to any sort of update schedule. I just felt like getting this out there for some reason.

Reviews appreciated :)

* * *

Elizabeth held onto Henry's arm as he exited the SUV. She had wanted to take him back to her townhouse, but he had insisted on going to his own apartment. Walking with Henry up the steps, she could feel that he was still a little shaky. His muscles seemed weaker than normal, and even though he was sober, his coordination was not the best.

Opening the door for him, the stench of the apartment hit Elizabeth's nose and made her step back. Of course, no one had cleaned anything since they had left with the ambulance nearly two days ago. The barely 500 square foot apartment didn't leave a lot of place for the stale air to go. The hot light streaming in the window probably hadn't helped the smell.

Henry grimaced and kept moving forward into the apartment.

Elizabeth grabbed his arm. "Henry, stop. Come back to my house and stay for a few days. We can get someone to clean this up. You need to rest," she almost pleaded with him.

"No," Henry said firmly. "It's fine. I can clean it up. It's my mess anyway."

To Henry, it wasn't just the mess of dried vomit and spilled whiskey that he had to clean up. He had an intangible mess to clean, too. He was angry with himself. Alcohol had kept him from being a functioning human for the past two days. It wasn't even just alcohol. It was Elizabeth.

He had let Elizabeth's problems interfere with his work, with his personal life, and with his health. He loved her completely, but he felt like he should have been able to help her instead of getting bogged down in her issues. What good was he as a boyfriend if he couldn't help her? He felt like he had already failed her. Not only had he not kept her from cutting, he had made her go rescue him after the fact. She didn't need a boyfriend that was more trouble than he was worth, and Henry knew it.

Elizabeth bent to pick up an empty bottle of whiskey. "Well, at least let me help..." She gathered up the bottles in her arms.

"No," he said again, leaning against the couch for support. "Elizabeth, stop." His tone was harsh because of anger at himself for being so weak.

Seeing his face, she sighed, setting the bottles on the table. "I don't mind..." She trailed off.

"You can't pick up the pieces for me. I messed up, and I need to fix it."

She tried to soothe him. "Henry, you can't beat yourself up over it. You made a mistake, but you're not going to do it again."

"How do you know?" He raised his voice slightly. "How do you know I won't do it again? How do you know I won't freak out the next time you have a bad day and need me? I just can't... I can't guarantee... You need someone more stable than I am right now." His throat grew thick with emotion, his voice sounding pinched. He spoke to a point in the corner of the room, unable to look Elizabeth directly in the eye.

"Henry... please... Don't."

"You deserve someone better than me. You deserve someone who will be there for you no matter what."

"Don't you think you deserve the same thing?" Elizabeth was nearly shouting now. "Don't you think I'm mad at myself for not being there for YOU? Why was I so wrapped up in cutting that I didn't even notice you were upset? We could have avoided this whole fucking thing!" Angry tears seeped down her cheeks, and she had to turn away.

"You said it yourself." His gaze stayed on his feet, and his voice sounded flat. "We can't keep doing this. It's just not fair."

"So what do you want to do?" Elizabeth glanced at him briefly. She let her tears fall unchecked. She knew whatever Henry was about to say, she wasn't ready for it.

"I just need some time... Let me figure things out." Henry muttered.

She nodded. That was probably the best she could hope for, but it still felt like he had slapped her. She almost wished he would slap her so she could focus on the pain instead of the roiling mix of emotions currently churning inside her.

"Okay. I'll call you later..."

"Just... Give me some space, okay? I'm not ready... This is all just too much right now."

Henry still didn't look at her.

Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say, and she probably couldn't have said it through her tears, anyway. Henry had just embarrassed her, and the only thing she could think to do at the moment was try to preserve what dignity she could. She quickly made her way out the door of the apartment and slammed the door behind her. Slamming the door was unintentional, but it felt good, anyway.

She saw Matt raise an eyebrow in question. Realizing she probably looked hideous, she tried to wipe the tears from her face without drawing attention. "We're going home." She paused for a moment to breathe in the fresh air, seeing birds flying from tree to tree without a care in the world. With her back to Henry, she stepped towards her motorcade that would take her back to her house. Only this time, she knew Henry wouldn't be visiting her. He wouldn't be popping over with a bag of ingredients ready to cook for her.

Well, she had lived alone before, and she could live alone again.

* * *

Henry sat down heavily, wondering what he had just done. Had he just broken up with Elizabeth? He hadn't intended to, but having a door slammed in his face seemed pretty clear. And there was certainly no way he could call her now and try to explain. He had been the one to push for distance, after all. And now he might have pushed her away for good.

Resting his head back against the sofa, he tried to figure out what he should do next.

Clean up the bathroom, probably. The worst of it was in there. If he got that done, everything else would be easier.

At least, he hoped.

* * *

Sitting alone in front of her TV, Elizabeth tried to focus on the face of the woman on the screen trying to sell her a birdhouse. Today, though, it didn't seem funny. She didn't need a birdhouse. No one needed that particular birdhouse. It was hideously ugly.

And yet, as she listened to the woman on screen tell her about the pleasant mornings she could sit around sipping coffee and watching the peaceful birds, she found herself looking around her for her cell phone so she could order one of the gaudy bird houses.

 _"If you simply fill up the birdseed here, it will be automatically dispensed daily in the scale sized outdoor picnic table."_

 _"Isn't that cute? The birds have their own little front garden and picnic table."_

 _"This house is completely built to scale with a swimming pool in the back and bird sized doorways on the interior. The trim is done in a patriotic red, white, and blue. There's even a real working flagpole in the front yard you can raise and lower the flag with the remote."_

Elizabeth knew the frankly stupid birdhouse was not going to make her feel any better, but she felt the need to do something.

She hadn't been able to keep Henry from drinking, and she hadn't been able to keep him from getting dragged into her own issues. She loved him, and she didn't want him having to put up with her cutting. Even if she wanted to cut, she didn't want to tell Henry about it because she preferred being able to be a normal couple. He shouldn't have to take time to soothe her through her urges to hurt herself. She should be able to handle that on her own.

Even when she did tell Henry about her urges to cut, it wasn't like he could do much, anyway. He could talk to her, but that only worked to the point she was willing to talk. He couldn't take away the urge or even the anxiety. Only so much physical comfort could be given, and she was still a little wary of letting him touch her, particularly when she was upset. Her body still remembered a trauma, even if her mind was ready to accept Henry's embrace. When she really wanted to hurt herself, there was nothing in the world that was going to stop her.

As much as she wished he could, Henry couldn't solve her problems or take away her urge to cut. And yet, hadn't that been what she was trying to do about his drinking? Had she not been trying to love away his urge to drink? They had both been trying to save each other, and it clearly hadn't worked. If anything, it had just made things worse. Strictly speaking, if Elizabeth had not upset Henry with her cutting, he wouldn't have given himself alcohol poisoning.

If she had never met Henry, she probably wouldn't have cut enough to require stitches.

The thought hurt her more than cutting ever could. She loved Henry, but their love couldn't overcome their problems. At least it clearly hadn't. They might be able to give it another go and try harder next time, but any way she thought about it, it all came back to the same thing. The only person who could stop her from cutting was herself. And short of removing all the alcohol in the world, the only person who could keep Henry from drinking was Henry.

What they had been doing, Elizabeth realized, would not actually empower them to make healthy decisions. If she ran to Henry every time she wanted to cut, that wasn't actually addressing the fact that she was her own problem. All it did was make it – her – Henry's problem. It was selfish, in a way, to expect Henry to take care of her in addition to himself. Although, he really hadn't been taking care of himself, she mused. They had been doing the same thing. At least she couldn't feel too bad about imposing herself on Henry when he had done just that to her. She hadn't really thought of it as an imposition, either. She genuinely loved Henry and wanted to help him. Elizabeth just hoped that Henry wouldn't be too mad at her.

Even if he were mad, at least now she'd be able to look at her new birdhouse to take her mind off of it.

* * *

Sitting alone in his finally clean apartment, Henry nursed a plate of scrambled eggs and a fruit smoothie. Food didn't really sound appetizing in the slightest, but he knew he'd have to eat something if he wanted to feel any better. He tried to watch TV, but even the news didn't hold its normal appeal. He tried putting on music, but everything seemed to annoy him slightly.

At a loss for something to occupy him, but knowing it was too early to go to bed, he began thumbing through his bookshelf hoping he would find something to settle his mind. As he read the titles, he began to cast off the books as unsuitable for the occasion.

Summa Theologica. _Much too much for tonight._

Feminist Biblical Interpretation. _That'll just remind me of Elizabeth._

Postcolonial Commentary on the New Testament. _That'll also remind me of Elizabeth._

Old Testament Exegesis. _That was boring the first time I read it._

Rerum Novarum. _Let's not get into that tonight…_

Pacem in Terris. _Too close to home…_

Love and Responsibility. _Huh…_

He paused for a moment. If there were ever a time he needed to step up and be responsible when it came to love, it was now. Plucking the book off the shelf, he began thumbing through the well-worn pages. He had read this particular copy quite a bit when he was getting his PhD. The beautiful prose had filled his head and given him an alternative of what love could be like. His parents had loved each other, and for the most part, he had had a happy childhood. He certainly hadn't wanted for food or clothing like many of his friends had. But his parents had married for convenience. They needed to get married because that was what you did. That was the only foreseeable path forward. As the years had gone on, Henry had watched his parents drift further and further apart to the point that they were merely living together under one roof and barely interacting unless the children were home. They didn't have any animosity between them, but they certainly didn't have a spark of love, either.

In college, reading about ways to honor a partner had given him a much more hopeful outlook for himself. He wanted a marriage – a partnership that nourished him and helped him grow as a living person. He knew how much satisfaction could be gained from giving love, and he wanted to be able to love his potential wife in the most complete way possible.

The few women he had found who had a similar views of relationships were terrified of his military background. They couldn't understand what would make him want to sign up for a life of following orders and shooting guns.

As much as he had wanted to say that being a Marine was just a job – it hadn't been. He had never wavered in his decision to join. Sure, at the time, he had mostly been considering the scholarship he'd get to pay for school. It was his ticket out of a poor neighborhood in Pittsburgh. Even looking back as a 55 year old man, he would still consider becoming a Marine to be worth it had the only thing he had gotten been an escape from his family. Of course, he had gained so much more than that – friends, buddies, skills, a career, enough money to be perfectly comfortable. He knew he could afford to buy his own house if he wanted it, but he had spent so long living as a broke student in tiny apartments, he didn't really see the need for any more space.

Sitting down with his book, remembering the solace it used to bring him as an idealistic, naive college student, he hoped it would once again give him guidance. That was the thing about good writing – you could come back to it over and over and still get something new out of it.

Henry let the words of JPII wash over him, losing track of time. The beginning of the book was fundamental Catholic teaching, but the way it was presented was so eloquent and beautiful, he couldn't help but get caught up in it.

After reading for about half an hour, he came upon a quote he had highlighted at some point years ago. He had thought it was important then, and the weight of the words hit him with enough force to take his breath away.

"A person's rightful due is to be treated as an object of love, not as an object for use." - JPII _Love and Responsibility_

He leaned his head back, trying to sort out his thoughts. Had he been using Elizabeth? Had she been using him? Was that their problem? Of course they loved each other. That wasn't a question in his mind. But their treatment of each other? Was that really healthy? Was he truly honoring her as a person when he made her drag him to the hospital because he had poisoned himself with alcohol? Was he treating her equitably when he lied to her about how much he was drinking?

The questions burrowed into his mind, planting seeds of unease. The thought of losing Elizabeth stung like an open wound, but he knew she had been right when she spoke to him in the hospital. Their current pattern of supporting each other to their own detriment was unsustainable. That wasn't real love. Constantly making the other pick up the pieces... That wasn't respectful, and it certainly wasn't treating each other as receivers of love rather than objects for use.

* * *

On Tuesday morning, Elizabeth stared at the wall in her office, not noticing what was in front of her at all. Thankfully, there were no major international crises for the time being. She wasn't sure what she would have done if there had been a situation that needed her full attention. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since she had last seen Henry, and she had already managed to cut herself four separate times.

She kept bouncing back and forth between blaming herself for Henry's continued drinking and being mad at him that he couldn't control it. The anger scared her because being mad at Henry felt like betraying their relationship – betraying everything he had done to help her. And of course blaming herself for Henry's drinking didn't make her feel any better. She couldn't manage to stop cutting. She couldn't control her panic attacks... No matter what she did, she was a shitty girlfriend. No wonder Henry had wanted some time away from her.

Elizabeth knew the only way their relationship would ever work out was if they managed to each take care of themselves and not make the other guilty when one of them slipped up. They couldn't keep taking each other's failures so personally. The self-blame was misplaced and impossible to live with. They needed to find a way to separate their relationship from their personal struggles, at least a little.

But that didn't make her feel any better. What would that even look like? How could she keep from accidentally making Henry feel guilty when she cut? Would she just have to hide it from him? Would he have to hide his drinking from her? That didn't seem like much of a solution. That wasn't progress; that was going back to the way they had been when they first started dating.

Besides, thinking of trying to go back to fighting her own demons, alone, without Henry... That prospect was terrifying. Now that she had Henry, she knew if she woke up in the middle of the night, she had someone to call. If she panicked, she had someone who knew how to help. Henry gave her an oasis of calm when she felt like there was no oxygen left in the world.

It may not even matter, she huffed to herself. It may not matter how much she wanted to keep the status quo going. There was no status quo anymore. She had seen to that. If only she hadn't slammed the door, she thought. If only she had stayed and made Henry understand...

Not that she knew what she would have said to him. She still didn't know what to say to him.

* * *

Wednesday found Elizabeth sitting in her office, working as usual. Her second day back at work was going fine, if one ignored that she had already cut three times. It deadened the sinking feeling of despair that she felt whenever she thought about Henry. It deadened everything, really. In a way, that was nice. If she felt anything too strongly just then, she knew she would probably break down into tears, and no one needed that. But while it was nice that she could cut instead of feel sad about Henry, the cutting made her completely indifferent to Henry.

Without Henry around to keep her from cutting, she felt like she had been given a free pass to cut as much as she wanted. She wasn't going to do anything dangerous, but at least for a while, it felt great to immediately give in to the desire to cut. She was starting to run out of places she hadn't cut yet. After a day and a half of that, though, she was starting to realize that the cutting could only do so much. The endorphin high couldn't solve everything. If anything, it was starting to be more trouble than it was worth. While the cutting made her forget how upset she was over Henry, it also kept her from feeling much of anything for Henry, and that was almost more upsetting and painful.

* * *

"Ma'am, I need your okay to offer Pakistan humanitarian aid as an inducement to work with India." Nadine strode into the Secretary's office, still looking at the papers in her hands.

"Huh?" Elizabeth almost grunted, coming out of her endorphin reverie. She was having a perfectly enjoyable time just riding out her wave of numbness.

Nadine narrowed her eyes. This week, she had witnessed the Secretary like this countless times. She had seen her behave similarly before, but never this much all at once. It was like the problem – whatever it was – was getting worse.

"Madam Secretary, are you all right?" She asked carefully.

Shaking her head slightly to clear it, Elizabeth sat up at her desk, forcing herself to focus. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Again, Nadine regarded her boss with some skepticism, though she tried not to show it. She had a suspicion she knew what the Secretary had been up to. Watching her constantly fiddling with the edges of her sleeves, the fact that she wore long sleeves no matter how hot it was outside… Hell, Secretary Adams even wore long sleeved gowns to all the formal functions. Every other woman in the room could be wearing sleeveless dresses, and she would still be wearing long sleeves. Not just long sleeves, but the gowns were always ankle or floor length, too. Many women in DC were fond of skirt suits, but Secretary Adams never wore anything but long skirts. That struck Nadine as odd. She knew plenty of older women who wore long sleeves to cover up cellulite on their arms, but that was certainly not a problem the Secretary would have. She looked like she barely had an extra ounce of fat on her.

Nadine also knew people who had to cover up tattoos, but she could almost certainly rule out tattoos. There was no way a CIA operative would have had lots of distinguishing marks like tattoos. She couldn't be covering up track marks because, again, CIA operatives couldn't be drug addicts. If only Nadine had ever seen her wear an even slightly shorter sleeve. The State Department had a fairly conservative dress code, but even the most modest women wore thee-quarter length sleeves in the summer.

Except the Secretary. At least since Iran… Before Iran, sleeveless dresses and knee-length skirts were a normal part of the Secretary's wardrobe.

A few quick Google searches had given Nadine a few ideas. Psoriasis and eczema were possible. But with the emotional effect she had seen, she thought there might be a darker explanation. Before finding a website online, Nadine had never heard of self-injury. But the Secretary sure seemed to have all the warning signs – aside from having visible injuries. Nadine knew she had had panic attacks after Iran. She had read her bio; she knew she had a difficult childhood what with losing her parents when she was thirteen.

Nadine didn't think it was appropriate for her to ask. And there wasn't much to do, anyway. Secretary Adams was an adult. However she wanted to live her life was her own business.

Shaking herself back to the present, Nadine said, "I just need your signature on these before I talk to the Pakistanis." She held out the papers for her boss to sign, but she held them just far enough that she would have to reach. She wanted to see if Secretary Adams would let her sleeves ride up.

The answer was no.

Without thought, Elizabeth stood up and took the papers from Nadine. It was reflex. Reaching for things was something she had trained herself not to do. At least not since she started the cutting.

"Of course. Of course. Let me just double check that it's something Congress can live with." Elizabeth sat back down with the papers to read before she signed.

Nadine nodded and excused herself. She was confident in her suspicion that the Secretary injured herself in some way. But it wasn't her business. Secretary Adams had not reached out for help or even indicated that she wanted anything more than a strictly professional relationship with any of the office staff. And her work hadn't suffered, at least not that Nadine could tell. Secretary Adams was highly capable, if unorthodox in her methods.

No, Nadine knew she wouldn't say anything about it unless her work started suffering. But if it did – if she thought that Secretary Adams's personal issues were compromising the national interest – she wouldn't hesitate to speak to Russell Jackson. The State Department had a mission. Secretaries came and went, but the duty to the country stayed the same.

* * *

Over the past few months, Elizabeth had grown accustomed to walking through life with two secrets. She had the cutting, but now she had another source of calm – her relationship with Henry. When work got stressful, she could remind herself that at the end of it, she'd be able to see Henry. Just that thought was able to calm her down. It was so much easier to get up for work in the morning when she knew she'd be able to see Henry in only a few hours. She always had something to look forward to.

But the cutting made her apathetic about everything. Including Henry. The pain from the cuts made her panic less noticeable, but it also made her feelings for Henry less noticeable. That only made her feel worse. Without her feelings for Henry, she was without a part of herself. She had come to think of herself at least in part as someone who loved Henry, and without that love, she felt lost. She didn't have that secret source of joy, so she was just left with the cutting to make her feel better, but it couldn't fix everything. At some point, more cutting just became overkill. The endorphins couldn't actually solve anything in the real world. They could just put off the moment she would have to deal with her problems.

She was more attentive to her staff when she wasn't strung out on an endorphin high. She was better at her job as a whole when she hadn't been cutting. On a personal level, she was better able to encourage her staff when she could empathize with them. When she cut, though, she couldn't feel anything, even sympathy for others.

The only time she could feel how much she loved Henry was when she wasn't cutting. She was faced with a decision. If she wanted to feel the love they had for each other, she couldn't cut. But now it was so much more complicated. Would Henry ever want her back? Was that love still there? Or had she ruined it?

* * *

By Wednesday evening, Henry felt pretty much back to normal. He had made it through two days at work without drawing any attention to himself. No one had any reason to suspect that he had spent the majority of his weekend in the hospital after giving himself alcohol poisoning. At first, he had had to catch up on the work he missed, but by the end of work on Wednesday, he was convinced that no one who didn't already know would find out about how he had spent his weekend.

With that settled, he had nothing to do but think of Elizabeth. He had really fucked up, and he knew it. She had been trying to help – hell, she had even given him an excuse for work that no one would question. And he had treated her terribly. Not that she had fought back. He had expected her to fight back. The Elizabeth he knew was a fighter. From the very beginning, she had not been afraid to tell him when he was embarrassing himself. Why hadn't she yelled at him like he deserved?

Maybe she had been looking for an excuse to leave, he reasoned. Maybe she realized she didn't want to put up with him. ...Elizabeth was smart, she could have gotten tired of cleaning up his messes for him.

Henry felt guilty that he had been wanting Elizabeth to pick up the pieces for him. She had covered for him and even offered to help him clean his apartment. He wished he could have walked into their relationship without any emotional baggage for her to deal with. At least not any baggage that manifested itself so dramatically. Particularly when Elizabeth had very real and very legitimate trauma, she didn't need to be worried that Henry would be on a bender when she needed him. His issues didn't have the clear-cut causes like Elizabeth's. Sure, Bolivia had been traumatic, but he had military training. His father may have died, but at some point, everybody had to deal with the loss of their parents. Henry couldn't compare their situations. In his mind, Elizabeth had every right to be traumatized, and he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

Picking up the bottle, he knew he would hate himself in the morning, but that didn't help him stop. He was upset that he had imposed on Elizabeth with his drinking, and his solution was to drink. That made a lot of sense.

After downing the first shot, he reasoned that if Elizabeth were mad at him and refusing to talk to him, at least his drinking couldn't hurt her.

* * *

Henry woke up and noticed there was soft gray light making the window glow. For a second, it could be a normal morning, and then his stomach lurched and he remembered what he had done the previous night as the evidence resurfaced. He could tell he was still at least a little intoxicated because vomiting didn't hurt. Vomiting while sober hurt, but vomiting while drunk didn't hurt. When he was done, he leaned back to take stock. He was on the sofa, sprawled out next to a puddle of vomit. A wave of pain hit him between the eyes and felt like a band constricting around his temples. It was blinding. His mouth was dry, and his throat felt like sandpaper. He knew he needed to get some water in his stomach before he threw up again. It might help settle things.

He tried to get up, but immediately stumbled back down. His equilibrium was gone, and he couldn't keep his balance. Hearing his stomach churn dangerously at the sudden movement, he knew he had to get some water or he'd regret it. The only thing left if he couldn't walk was to crawl.

On his hands and knees, he dragged himself the few feet to the sink and pulled himself up. Leaning heavily on the counter, he was able to fill a cup with water and bring it to his lips. He could only take a small sip before his stomach began to protest, but after a minute, he could tell it was already helping. He tried small sip after small sip, and gradually he felt better. After a few minutes, he thought he was ready to stand up. He knew the quicker he cleaned up the vomit, the easier it would be. As he stood and took a couple steps, the world pitched dangerously again, and he stumbled into the wall, bracing himself with a hand. He bent over as once again the contents of his stomach were expelled onto the floor. He could tell he was still vomiting alcohol that hadn't been absorbed into his system.

He sank down to the floor again, willing the world to stop spinning. His head was still pounding. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was already 7am. He'd have to hurry to make it to work on time. It took another few minutes for his stomach to settle again, but he managed to get up and get a rag to clean up his mess. When he vomited a third time while he was mopping up the floor, he decided there was nothing else for it. He'd be sick like this all day. It would be less embarrassing to take an unplanned sick day than it would be to go to work and have everyone know that he was hung over on a... what day was this?... Thursday? Yeah. Sometimes people came to work hung over on Fridays, but not on Thursdays. He'd just have to call in sick.

Feeling his stomach heave again, though, he figured that at least he wouldn't have to lie about being sick.


	22. It's my worried mind that you quiet

Chapter 21: It's my worried mind that you quiet

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews! I'm glad you're still reading. You all inspired me to get back into this fic. I have four more chapters after this one more or less ready to go. After that I've just got one-page summaries of each chapter. But I think I'm going to try to keep this updated for the next few weeks. The outlet is nice. ...and the encouraging reviews are nice too :)

If you want to help out my writing... after you've read this chapter, let me know in the reviews how you think they will in future handle a situation where they both struggling at the same time, i.e. Henry wants to drink at the same time that Elizabeth wants to cut. That's the next bit I'm writing, and it's not quite coming to me.

* * *

Once he was awake and managed to eat some food, he took the time to really clean his apartment. It was mindless, and in a way, that was nice. It felt good to cleanse his apartment of the remnants of his bad choices. When he was done, he got in the shower himself and washed away the sweat and grime that covered his body. He knew he'd have to stop drinking for a few days if he didn't want a repeat of the previous twelve hours. Even if it wouldn't last long, Henry was ready for a bit of sobriety. Or at least he was ready until the next time he had a horrible nightmare and needed a glass of whiskey to calm himself down.

By Friday morning, Henry was functional and ready to be at work. It seemed he had picked just the week to miss two days because nothing major had managed to happen without him. He had a bit of catching up to do, but he got through it by lunchtime. Friday afternoons were always fairly slow. A lot of people had a schedule with Fridays off, so there weren't many people in the office. And the people who were left were just counting the minutes until they could leave. They had spouses and children to get home to, and they were ready to start an enjoyable and wholesome weekend.

Henry watched as some of his coworkers managed to sneak out a little early, and he envied them that draw that pulled them home. They had something _better_ to do than work. They had something more enjoyable at home.

Two weeks ago, that had been Henry sneaking out early to get home to Elizabeth. But now, he really had nothing to get back to. He'd go back to his apartment and... watch a movie alone? He didn't even know what sort of recreational things to do that didn't involve drinking.

Wracking his brain for something he would like to do, images of Elizabeth curled up in his lap came to mind. He thought about taking her to play putt-putt or skee-ball. He didn't care what they did as long as they were together. She had become his best friend, and he almost couldn't imagine having fun without her.

He kicked himself again for how he had treated her. She had deserved so much better. He should have called the second she left, but then he let it fester because he was embarrassed... and drunk. Well, without any plans for the weekend, he decided he should call her and tell her he was sorry. Even if she wouldn't take him back, he needed her to know that she hadn't been at fault. He needed to get it off his chest and make peace.

Glancing at the clock, he realized that hours had gone by. It was already 7pm, and he was probably the only one in the building besides the night crew. Picking up his phone, he dialed her home number thinking that she would have gone home at 5 since there wasn't a crisis.

* * *

Preparing for the weekend, Elizabeth sent off her signature on the stipulations of potential talks with India. It was just after lunch on Friday, and so far, everything seemed straightforward and just as she had expected. They wanted hand shaking, photo ops… the usual stuff. If she could get all these basics settled, she might actually be able to get out of the office on time for once. She could go home, have a glass of wine, and curl up with a book that didn't talk about international violence.

She would finally have a chance to organize her thoughts about Henry. If she had the time to figure out what to do, she could finally put the stress and angst to rest. It would be such a weight off her chest. As much as she told herself all the cutting she had done had helped her cope with her feelings about Henry, it hadn't helped her understand or come to grips with anything. She still needed time to process. The cutting had just delayed it.

When she saw Blake walk in the door, she knew her hope of a quiet evening at home was not going to happen.

She sighed. "What is it, Blake?"

"Ma'am, Pakistan says they won't shake hands with India."

She rubbed a hand over her face. "I just signed that clause in the agreement. We're bound to those details. We can't agree to go forward with the talks if Pakistan won't shake hands."

"Do you want me to get the foreign minister or the ambassador?"

"Um…" She looked around, trying to think. She had to come up with a solution, but all she could think about was cutting. Her expectation for the evening had been so nice. Elizabeth had gotten so wrapped up in her hope for a quiet evening to sort out her thoughts, it was a blow to have that evening disrupted. She needed time alone. Just a few hours to herself to rest and not have to think about work.

But would cutting really solve anything? If her hope had been to sort out her feelings for Henry, she certainly wouldn't be able to do that if she was apathetic from cutting. She wouldn't be ready to think up a creative solution to fix the agreement with India and Pakistan.

Realizing she had been silent for slightly too long, she snapped back to the present. Blake had an eyebrow raised at her in question.

"Tell my detail I'm going to go for a walk. I need some time to think. I'll want to talk to India first, but I need some time to figure out what to say."

"Yes, Ma'am." Blake said, turning to go.

Elizabeth stood up and grabbed her coat. It had looked cloudy the last time she had seen the sky, although that had been a while. She started to pick up her purse, but she set it back down. There was no reason to take her purse with her. She could put her cell phone in her pocket, and then she wouldn't have the temptation of having her cutting tools with her. Of course, she could come back and cut later, but it might even feel good to not have to decide whether or not to cut for twenty minutes. The decision to cut or not happened every moment she had access to her tools, and sometimes the weight of it was too much.

* * *

By Friday evening, Elizabeth was wondering why she didn't feel better than she did. She had brokered some sort of peaceable agreement between the Pakistanis and the Indians, and she had managed to keep from cutting the entire day. But it was 6:45pm, and she had no idea what to do with herself. She could go back home and warm up a frozen dinner, but that was hardly anything to look forward to.

Henry had said he wanted space. But a week without any communication at all, when they had been texting multiple times a day, seeing each other every day, and going on dates once or twice a week... She had no idea where she stood with him, and she wasn't okay with it. She needed to know what to expect. Making up her mind, she decided he at least owed her that. He couldn't expect her to sit in the dark forever. Besides, she was worried about him. Had he managed to keep from drinking? Was he doing okay at work? She loved him, and she wanted to know that he was all right. She wanted him to know that no matter what happened, she still loved him... Even if they couldn't be together, she still cared about him. That love wouldn't go away just because they were no longer dating. She wanted him to be okay.

She grabbed her phone to call him, punching in his home number since it was nearly 7pm. If anything, she just wanted to hear his voice.

"You've reached Henry McCord. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

She heard his answering machine, and for a second, the slightly distorted recording made her heart stop. She hadn't realized how much she missed him. It threw her off, so when the machine beeped to let her know she was being recorded, she didn't have a plan of what to say.

"Um... Hi Henry, it's me. I... um... just wanted to know how you're doing. I... miss you. Maybe we could get dinner? I know there's a lot going on... I just... I want to see you. I hope you're okay. Um... I guess I'll try to call later at some point, unless... never mind. Um, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

She hung up the phone and sunk into her chair, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't even remember exactly what she had said, but she knew it hadn't been the matter of fact message she was hoping to impart. Well, the ball was in his court now. She could go home and read her book knowing that she had at least tried.

* * *

"This is Elizabeth Adams. Leave me a message with you're name and number and I'll call you back."

Hearing her voicemail, Henry realized he shouldn't be surprised that she was still at work at 7pm, given what her job was. Still, he had been hoping to get her in person.

"Elizabeth, it's Henry. I wanted to apologize for what I said Monday. I didn't mean... I still love you, and I want to spend time with you. I just got overwhelmed, and I didn't communicate that well. I'm sorry. Could we talk about things? I'm willing to work on making things better. I miss you, babe. I'll call you again tomorrow and see if I can't catch you. I love you."

Henry didn't know what else to do after that, so he packed up his briefcase and went home. He hadn't realized how almost desperate he was for her until he heard her voice on the machine. There drive from the Pentagon to his apartment was not long, but it seemed so much more vivid than it had going to work that morning. He missed Elizabeth with a new intensity. She was somewhere in the city, but she wasn't with him. He wished he could just surprise her and demand that she listen to him. But that wouldn't work. She wouldn't put up with that, and her security certainly wouldn't put up with that, either.

No, he had to do this slowly and delicately. There was no dramatic fix for this. There was only the slow trudge to gain her trust back – if that could even be done.

* * *

Elizabeth fiddled with her napkin in her lap, waiting for the server to finish setting their plates in front of them. Henry had taken her out to an upscale restaurant that was quiet and roomy. It was the kind of place you went if you didn't want someone overhearing your conversation. When the waiter left, Elizabeth found the courage to broach the subject that had brought them there.

"So… You said you're still willing to give this a go?"

Henry looked up from his plate. "What? Of course I'm willing! If anything, I thought you wouldn't want to…"

She sighed. It should have gratified her that he still wanted to date her. It only seemed to make everything more complicated.

"I want this… More than almost anything I've ever wanted. But there's just so much… and we're going to have to figure out a way to deal with it all." Her voice sounded resigned and almost dejected. She didn't know how to fix the problem, and she was so exhausted from trying to keep herself together. Getting up for work every morning and hiding her secret was tiring, and trying to sort out what to do about her relationship with Henry was just one more thing to pile on. Her inability to fix it instantly annoyed her. She was a fixer.

He nodded. "I know… We've both go issues, I guess."

"Yeah, Henry. We do. And we haven't been doing the best with that. It's not okay for you to keep me from cutting only to go home and drink. And I can't pick up the pieces for you all the time… It's not healthy. It doesn't solve anything. It's just shifting the pain around."

"I guess we both need to be a little more independent if we want to have a close relationship?" Henry pointed out the slightly unintuitive nature of their problem.

"Maybe independence isn't the best way to phrase it… I don't know what to call it."

"Co-dependent?"

"Not in a clinical sense, but maybe. I mean, you go drink, and that makes me so upset I cut. Or the other way around. We aren't being strong when the other is weak. And we can't both fall apart…"

"No, that's not fair to you."

"It's not fair to either one of us, Henry," she reminded him gently.

He ran a hand down his face, trying to deal with the enormity of the problems before them. Henry spent so much time minimizing their problems, that when he actually thought about it, it seemed almost overwhelming.

"You're right. Maybe it's just my feelings for you… I just feel like you're such a wonderful person, and you deserve someone who's got his life together. And as much as I want to be the one for you – more than anything – I just… You deserve better than me."

"You think I don't feel the same way?"

Henry felt a passion awakened inside him, and he spoke quickly and fiercely. "That's just the fear talking. You are an amazing person. You're in a bad spot right now with the cutting, but you're so much stronger than you realize. You can do this. With help, you can do this. And that doesn't make you any less amazing."

Elizabeth was surprised by the strength of his conviction. She took a minute to let his words sink in.

"Why is it any different for you?"

Letting out a breath, Henry sat back. She had painted him into a corner.

"Look, all I'm saying is that almost any other man could love you better than I can right now."

"Henry, I don't want anyone else. I want you."

Seeing that tears were threatening to spill down her face, Henry reached for her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

"You've got me, baby. It's okay. We'll figure it out."

She nodded and took her hand back. Picking up her fork to push around the food on her plate, she tried to pull herself together.

"We'll figure it out," she repeated, trying to convince herself.

Henry picked up his own fork and took a couple bites. He could tell they both needed some time to think. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was delicate, yes, but not dangerous. They were both vulnerable, but present. They wanted to work things out.

After another minute of eating, Elizabeth asked, "So what will it look like when one of us has a bad day?"

Chewing slowly, Henry thought for a few seconds. Swallowing, he said, "Well, we're going to have enough self-motivation to try to find alternatives, even if the other isn't available. Because you certainly can't drop everything to talk me through a bad day."

"You can't, either."

He nodded. "I guess it's the difference between wanting to get better for each other and wanting to get better, period."

"You think we need to be self-sufficient about our own… stuff?" Elizabeth tried to find words. The idea of not being able to lean on Henry scared her.

"Not exactly. I think we should be able to talk to each other about it. We just can't indulge each other and go to extreme lengths. Like you can't keep me from drinking only to go cut. We're going to have to learn to set those boundaries before we pull each other down."

Taking a breath, Elizabeth thought that was reasonable. They didn't need to quit trying to help each other, they just needed to go about it in a better way. "I can go for that."

"Now, I don't know how that's going to work out, really. We're going to figure it out as we go."

"Yeah." She nodded. "But at least we get to do it together…?"

Henry chuckled. He was glad Elizabeth could see the positives, even when he was struggling to find them. "That's the spirit, babe."

"I love you, Henry," she said, suddenly fierce. "I don't want to lose you to the alcohol."

"You won't. I promise." He paused a moment to breathe. "I don't think I can commit to giving it up right now, but I can commit to limiting it. Not getting so drunk I can't walk. I'm ready to keep myself from doing that. Or at least trying my best."

Elizabeth realized how big of a statement that was for Henry. "Good. I'm glad you're ready for that. Not just for me. For you, because I love you, and I know how much it hurts you when you drink like that."

Henry acknowledged her words and took another bite of his dinner. After ingesting her words and the food in his mouth, he asked softly, "And what about you? Do you think you're ready to…?" He trailed off, not knowing exactly what he was asking.

Elizabeth picked up her water glass and took a drink, trying to gather her thoughts. "I'm… I'm ready to commit to staying out of the hospital… But about the rest of it… I don't know. I'm going to try scale it back. I recognize that it doesn't actually solve anything… But I'm not ready to give it up entirely."

"That's okay. I mean, it's important to be honest and realistic. Things aren't going to get solved overnight."

"No. They aren't. Baby steps, right?" She smiled weakly.

Henry's smile was much more confident and reassuring. "Right."

* * *

Henry greeted Elizabeth with a kiss as she came in the front door. He already had dinner simmering on the stove. Her townhouse was full of the smell of his cooking, and Elizabeth couldn't think of a better thing to greet her after a trying day at work.

She let him hold her for a few extra seconds, soaking up his warmth and love. It felt good. Soothing.

"Rough day?" He murmured quietly into her ear.

"Yeah, but nothing ridiculous. Manageable." She pecked his cheek and moved past him to set down her things.

"By manageable, you mean…?" Henry queried, hoping she wasn't talking about cutting as 'managing' her stress.

"I went for a walk to let off some steam, but that was it." She said it almost regretfully. Part of her still wished she could cut.

"Hey, that's good. Babe, that's good. That's a victory." Henry encouraged.

She picked up a letter that was waiting for her on the counter and glanced up at him. "You really think so? It was just once."

"Babe," Henry waited for her to meet his eyes. "It's a victory, and you get to celebrate."

"How am I supposed to celebrate when I still have stuff to do, and I also have to keep fighting not to cut?"

Henry smiled, "That's when you let me pamper you a bit."

Elizabeth blushed and glanced down. Looking up from under her eyelashes she flirted, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

He pulled her into a hug and kissed her with a long, drugging kiss. "You loved me. And I don't know which way that goes, good or bad, but I'm so glad you did."

"Why are you using the past tense there? I still love you."

"It's grammatically correct."

"Well forget grammatically correct. I don't want it to sound like I don't love you anymore."

"Okay. Our love transcends grammar."

"Yes, it does."

* * *

As Elizabeth reclined on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn in hand, she thought about what Henry had said. Today had been a victory of sorts. She had kept from cutting all on her own. No one else. It was hers. It was an accomplishment, even if tomorrow she might not accomplish the same thing again.

And getting pampered was just fine. Her feet were resting in Henry's lap so he could give her a pedicure and massage. It was heavenly. As Henry moved his talented fingers up to her calves, she could feel the knots caused by her high heels slowly relax.

She could definitely get used to this, she thought.

* * *

A/N: Don't forget to tell me what you think they'll do now if they are both struggling at the same time. I promise it'll help get the chapters out faster :)

And always feel free to throw ideas at me if there's something you want to see.


	23. Understanding might elude our love

Chapter 22: Understanding might elude our love tonight

* * *

"Hey, babe, can I ask you something?" Henry started hesitantly as he cleared away their dinner dishes. He had come over after work the last few days, and they were settling back into a routine, but being careful not to forget the lessons they had learned after Henry's binge.

Elizabeth glanced at him over her shoulder. "Of course. What is it?"

"When the doctor… at the hospital…" He scrubbed the plates, trying to find a polite way to ask his question. "When he said one of the side effects of drinking was…" The topic was almost unbearably awkward, and he trailed off.

"Henry? Baby?" Elizabeth got up and stood beside him, trying to see his face. She rubbed his shoulders. She knew he needed to be reminded of her presence, but she also knew that if she pushed him too much, he'd clam up.

Henry swallowed. He had already started, so there was no getting out of the conversation now. "Um, when he said alcohol could cause impotence." He flushed deep crimson.

Nodding, Elizabeth kept her face serious. She knew this was delicate. "What about it?"

"Well…" Henry searched for the right words. "Are you… Does that make you… How do you feel about it?" They'd talked a fair amount about the events that led up to Henry's binge and Elizabeth walking out, but this was one topic they hadn't yet broached.

Sensing that this would be an important conversation, Elizabeth didn't want it to be too casual lest her words get misinterpreted. "Let's go sit down, huh?" She asked.

Henry followed rather stiffly until Elizabeth made him sit down on the couch.

It took her a minute to decide where to sit. She wanted him to be able to see her face, but she wanted to be close to him. Pulling the coffee table closer to the sofa, she sat on it so they could sit face to face. She took his hand in hers and felt the muscles and tendons. They were strong but slightly worn from his military days.

"You want to know how I feel about your impotence being caused by the alcohol?"

It wasn't exactly how he would have phrased it, but Henry nodded.

"Well, you know how I feel about the alcohol, and some of that is tied up in it. But I don't think the impotence has to affect our relationship much going forward. If and when you're ready, I'll help you find whatever fixes you're interested in pursuing. I know there are pills and stuff… But it's not going to be a big deal to me if that part of our relationship isn't… what someone might otherwise expect. Besides, there are plenty of things we can do that don't require you having an erection." She winked.

Henry blushed again, but this time for a different reason. He glanced down to regain his composure. "You mean that?"

"Yeah. Henry… Don't be upset about it. You're not the only one in the world dealing with this. This isn't that unusual. I'd feel really shallow if I let that stand in the way of our relationship."

"Okay, if you're sure." He almost didn't believe she had taken it this well. But women always took this stuff better, he mused.

"I am sure. And, for the record, you don't need to be nervous about bringing it up. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. And I won't faint if you talk about sex. We're in this together. That's what it means to be in a relationship."

Laughing, Henry realized how much he loved the woman in front of him. Speaking sincerely, he asked her, "You're wonderful, you know that?"

Elizabeth blushed and smiled, letting herself accept his compliment. "I might need some convincing." She flirted.

Henry raised his eyebrows, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying.

Seeing his confusion, Elizabeth put her hands on his shoulders and curled herself into his lap, kissing his lips with a tender fervor that Henry reciprocated. Henry felt momentarily placated. He could feel the honesty in her kiss. She still loved him, and she could still flirt with him, even though he didn't have an erection.

Besides, having her in his lap, holding her warm body to his own… There was nothing that could improve that.

Elizabeth let Henry hold her for several minutes, feeling him relax as she lazily kissed his neck and played her fingers across his neck and shoulders. She loved getting to give him the small but loving touches. An atmosphere of warmth and innocent affection settled over them, and Elizabeth felt it relax her, too. If she were honest with herself, it made her feel safer that Henry couldn't get an erection. Not that she felt unsafe with Henry. He made her feel more loved than she ever had, but if he couldn't get an erection, there was no pressure for her to put out before she was ready. There would come a day, she knew, when she would be ready. That day might be a long time coming, but it would happen eventually.

She climbed off of him and sat at the end of the sofa. "Lie down for me, babe."

Henry didn't understand, but he was already doing as he was told when he asked, "Why? What's this for?"

"So I can play with your hair. Duh."

Letting his head rest in Elizabeth's lap, feeling her fingers tangle gently through his hair, he released the last of the tension he had been holding about their conversation. Things were in the open now, and it was a welcome relief.

"Have I told you today how wonderful you are?" He muttered the words against her shirt. The soft pressure against his scalp was making him relax.

Elizabeth grinned. "I think you did not ten minutes ago..." She teased.

Henry was nearly lost in a haze of pleasure. The feel of her hands on his head and neck kept him from focusing on anything but how much he loved her. "Huh? Did I? Well that was smart."

Giggling lightly, Elizabeth kept up her ministrations, rubbing away the tightness in Henry's face and soothing away the tension. She was enjoying it just as much as he was. It was incredibly gratifying to see what effect she was having on him.

After a while, after nearly dozing off for the third time, Henry broke the silence. He was completely relaxed and content, a product of Elizabeth's attention. He stopped one of her hands, holding it to his chest to get her attention.

"Do you want to do anything tonight?" He tried to keep his voice from sounding so husky, but it was hard given how close to sleep he was.

Smiling softly, utterly content with the evening, Elizabeth replied, "Sitting here with you is an option, right?"

"Of course, but we could put on a movie or something..."

She interrupted his thought. "I might be up for a movie, if there's pop-"

"Popcorn." Henry finished her sentence. "Yes. Popcorn is a given."

"Alright. I'm in." She grinned, not just at the thought of popcorn. "I want to change into pajamas first."

"Sure thing. I'll make the popcorn." He started to force himself up from his comfortable spot on the couch.

"Actually," Elizabeth thought a moment. She knew what she wanted, but she was a little nervous about asking for it. She didn't know how Henry would take it. "I'm kinda tired. Why don't we just watch the movie upstairs?"

Henry tried to keep his surprise from registering on his face. "Um, yeah. Yeah, that's good." He hadn't been in her bedroom since the time they had tried to have sex and failed so miserably. He wasn't sure what Elizabeth was suggesting, especially given their conversation earlier.

"Great. I'll go get changed and you can make me some popcorn." She gave him a kiss and hopped up.

"If I'm making it, we're sharing the popcorn," he grouched good-naturedly.

"You keep telling yourself that, babe." She called as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

"I put in _The American President._ Hope that's good with you."

"How can I complain when a movie combines the genius of Rob Reiner and Aaron Sorkin?" He asked, flopping down beside her on the bed.

"Popcorn." She demanded, holding out her hand, settling herself to lean against the headboard, then motioning Henry to join her.

Henry handed her the bowl of popcorn, stealing a piece as she took it. She glared at him and retaliated by throwing another piece at him, which he caught in his mouth. Elizabeth laughed at his antics, and Henry felt his heart swell with love for how amazing his girlfriend was. She had spent her day negotiating with world leaders, and now she was sitting in bed with him, laughing at him catching popcorn in his mouth. She was capable, driven, tough as nails, and still down to earth. When she paid attention to him, he wanted nothing but to make her happy and make her laugh – reflect back a bit of the love she so freely gave him.

Elizabeth had everything she wanted in that moment. She had Henry sitting beside her with his arm wrapped around her, and she had a bowl of popcorn. And it wasn't just any popcorn. Henry had added Parmesan cheese and whatever else he used to make it completely irresistible to her.

* * *

 _"Sydney, I didn't send 455 to the floor to get you back."_

 _"I didn't come back 'cause you decided to send 455 to the floor."_

Elizabeth could feel a telltale tickle in the back of her throat, and she could hear Henry sniffing just a bit too loudly beside her.

As she watched Annette Benning and Michael Douglas kiss set to a triumphant orchestral swell, Elizabeth couldn't keep control herself anymore. She buried her face in Henry's shoulder and clung to him. She knew his arm wrapped around her was the only reason she hadn't broken down. The romance wasn't so bittersweet when Henry was with her.

"God, it's just so... It's so beautiful." She could feel pinpricks of tears starting, even though she wasn't sad.

Glad for the distraction, knowing he had been very nearly in tears himself, Henry held her to him and cooed softly into her ear.

"Shhh, it's okay. I've got you. I've got you, baby."

"It's just so happy." She murmured, not looking up, not wanting Henry to know how affected she was by such seemingly absurd dialogue.

Henry kissed her hair as he watched the credits start to roll by. It struck him that Elizabeth wasn't crying for the couple on screen. She was crying for herself. She was crying because she knew how horrible the world could be, and she knew that the kind of overwhelming happiness they saw onscreen was so often out of reach. He wished he could take her on a whirlwind romance like in the movies. He wished he could give her a moment of pure love, not tainted by the harsh realities of the world.

"I wish I could give you that." He admitted, still holding her close and rubbing her back soothingly.

She sniffed, trying to regain her composure. "Give me what?"

"A romance worthy of a movie. You deserve to be just as happy as they are."

Elizabeth let Henry's intention wash over her. He loved her. She wanted to revel in that. But the analytical part of her brain couldn't stay quiet.

"Babe, that's a really wonderful thing to say. Thank you." She kissed him tenderly, showing how much he meant to her. They took a moment to savor the kiss. "But also," she continued, "movie romances are terrible. They hardly ever actually end happily. They never show the couple actually living together, just them getting together. You can't run a relationship on lust and a crime bill."

"No?" Henry teased.

"No. Besides, the whole romance genre is rife with patriarchal stereotypes of women. The men go on some heroic quest to win the woman, and the woman is just supposed to accept whatever man makes the effort, like she doesn't have any say in it."

"You've thought about this a lot?"

"Maybe... I think every little girl wants a fairytale romance. But maybe it was just me..." She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a fulfilling relationship," he soothed.

"No. I guess not. But as sweet as the movies are, they don't actually show the best parts of a relationship."

Henry started absentmindedly playing with her hair, enthralled by her passion. "What do you think the movies miss?"

"They miss the feeling you get when someone gets your favorite ice cream flavor when you've had a bad day. They miss when someone does the dishes because they know you don't like doing them. Or when someone spends an afternoon with you doing nothing at all but playing with your hair. Or when someone cuddles you just right and the whole world vanishes. They miss the way your stomach turns over when you hear the person you love say they love you back, and you know that's all you'll ever need in the world."

As she spoke, she thought about Henry doing each of the things she mentioned and how special, cherished, and completely loved she had felt. That was the feeling she craved. The dramatics from the movies were great… but the little things made her feel understood and accepted. It gave her hope that their relationship would still be good in five years… or ten… or more.

Henry sat still, slightly surprised by Elizabeth's words. She was right, he thought. All those little things that really showed you the character of the person… Sure the big gestures mattered, but the day-to-day stuff was what kept people in love.

Not knowing what to say, he held her tighter.

"Henry?" Elizabeth asked, feeling self-conscious again.

"You're right, babe. You're right. I love you. You're so... wonderful."

Elizabeth could hear his voice was full of emotion, so she let herself relax. They didn't need to say anything else, really. She knew Henry understand what it took to keep a relationship going. He had already shown her that he knew how to make her feel loved – whether it was bringing her lunch, massaging her feet, telling her that he loved her every night, or spending time together without speaking at all.

Even though she knew how much effort they had both put in to making their relationship work out, part of her couldn't help but feel lucky – lucky she found Henry, lucky _he_ was as wonderful as he was, lucky he loved her…

She started sniffling again, and Henry was quick to notice.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"We found each other, Henry. We found each other. Do you know how long I felt like I would never find anyone...? How long I thought I'd always be alone?"

"You're not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore." He kissed her temple.

"I mean, I was fine with being alone. I wasn't pining away like some helpless damsel..."

"You've never been a helpless damsel." Henry spoke with conviction.

"No. But I like this... I like us."

"I like us, too."

To anyone else, their words might have sounded like nonsense, but they understood each other. Where before they were together, they assumed that they'd be alone for anything they did. If Henry wanted to go bowling, he assumed he would do it by himself. Sure, sometimes he'd manage to rustle up some of the guys to go with him, but for the most part, if he wanted to do something, he had to be prepared to do it alone. If he wanted company, that took special effort. Not anymore. Now the expectation was reversed. He assumed if he did something, he would be going with Elizabeth, and if he wanted a night by himself or a night with the guys, he had to make sure Elizabeth didn't already have plans.

They were starting to form their identity as a couple. Movies in bed, gourmet popcorn, burgers and bowling, Chinese food and Scrabble, pretentiously criticizing cooking shows... These were their favorite activities – things they knew the other would be happy to do.

A thought wouldn't leave Henry's mind, though. Sure, they had a list of activities they both liked, but was that really enough for Elizabeth? Would she be happy with that long term? Would she not, at some point, need the intimacy that only sex could provide? Henry certainly wanted that intimacy. Part of him wouldn't feel like he could completely trust Elizabeth until he knew she would accept him – all of him – even the parts that no one else saw.

"What are you thinking about?"

Elizabeth's question broke Henry from his brooding. Evidently, she could read it on his face that something was bothering him.

"I'm still thinking about what you said earlier."

"Henry, I meant it. There's no pressure..."

"I know you meant it. I just... It's more than sex. It's that... Even if we don't have sex, I need to feel like you're comfortable with me... Even if it's not intercourse and penetration... I need to know that we can feel physically connected to each other. Does that make sense? Is that hopelessly sentimental?"

Taking a minute to think, Elizabeth responded carefully. "I think I understand. You still want to have that physical expression of love, even if it isn't sex?"

"Yeah. That's a good way to phrase it."

"Do you want to try that now?" She asked a little apprehensively. She wasn't sure if she was ready, even for something relatively innocent, and she didn't like feeling slightly surprised. With Henry, she always knew he didn't have ulterior motives, but she still needed things to be on her terms.

Seeing the slightly reserved look on her face, Henry quietly reassured her. "Not now. Let's not rush it. We'll only do it when we both agree, okay?"

She nodded, feeling better. "What if we try tomorrow night?"

"You want to?"

"Yeah, I do." Elizabeth nodded confidently.

"Do you want to agree on some ground rules ahead of time?"

"No sex. Maybe... We can take off our shirts if we want to, but nothing beyond that."

"I can go for that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Henry confirmed.

"Okay." A small smile crept across her face. It was a smile of both joy and anticipation.

* * *

A/N: I have a feeling a lot of you are going to like this chapter... This should answer some of the comments I've gotten.

Y'all's suggestions have been really helpful! New questions: Would you like Nadine to eventually have confirmed that Elizabeth is a cutter? How do you think that relationship would work? Any ideas?

I'm also contemplating bringing Blake into this thing. What do you think would be his response?

I have the bare bones of a chapter idea involving Blake and Nadine, but I'm not sure how they'd respond. Writing multiple characters is hard, y'all...


	24. Take my hand, you smile and say

Chapter 23: Take my hand, you smile and say, for tonight the future waits

A/N: Here's this. Idk, yo.

Don't expect a super quick turnaround on the next chapter. It needs work, and I don't really feel like writing.

Send me good vibes. I'm hoping to get a call any day about an interview for my dream job. But they could still take a month to call. Or they could decide to cancel the announcement if we can't get an appropriations bill. Or Congress could decide to shut the government down. Who knows. Working for the government is a laugh a minute. (But someone hire me, plz)

* * *

"What movie did you pick for tonight?" Elizabeth asked as she crawled onto the bed, already changed into silk lounging pajamas. She was wearing a button up top that could be unbuttoned and still cover her arms. The top buttons could be undone to reveal her unmarred chest, while the lower buttons could stay closed to cover her stomach. Just to be safe, she had made sure that the cuts on her stomach were covered by gauze.

" _Princess Bride_. I hope that is satisfactory." Henry teased, already knowing how much Elizabeth loved the movie.

"Oh, my sweet Westley." She gushed, teasingly throwing herself into Henry's arms as he stood up from the DVD player. Elizabeth was trying to imitate the movie scene where Buttercup threw herself down the hill she had just pushed Westley down.

Henry caught her, grinning widely. He leaned in, checking first to make sure she was okay. Seeing her nod ever so slightly, he began to kiss her, slowly at first, and then growing in quiet, languid passion.

Elizabeth felt herself melt into Henry's slow pace. He wasn't rushing things, and he wasn't pushing her to take things further. They were simply enjoying a kiss, and they sank deeper and deeper into the mystery and joy of it with each passing moment.

Tearing herself away, resting her forehead against Henry's chest, Elizabeth grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. "We should watch the movie first."

Henry kissed the crown of her head. "As you wish."

When he turned toward the bed, Elizabeth pulled him back, still clinging to his shirt.

Confused, Henry turned back. "Baby? What is it?"

Looking up at him, Elizabeth spoke quietly. "I love you, Henry."

In her face, Henry could read everything she wasn't saying. She loved him just the way he was. She was still going to love him no matter if he ever got another erection or not.

"I love you, too." He wrapped himself around her and rested his head against her shoulder.

She whispered in his ear. "Promise me you won't push yourself?"

"We'll just take it slow." He whispered back.

"I trust you." This time when she spoke, her voice was firm and sure. Part of her would always be nervous when she was physically vulnerable with a man, but she trusted Henry, and she wasn't scared.

"You ready to eat some popcorn?"

Elizabeth nodded, smiling. Henry knew how to get her. She let herself be led to the bed. Henry tossed a quilt over her feet before crawling in next to her and wrapping her in his arms. They leaned together against the headboard, Elizabeth nuzzling further into Henry's embrace. She loved feeling his solid bulk next to her. He was warm, and she couldn't get enough.

Henry could feel her holding on to him tightly. It reassured him that she was both seeking and welcoming his touch. Now that he had convinced her he was trustworthy, she loved cuddling and innocent touches, and he loved giving them to her.

"Ready?" He asked, holding the remote.

She nodded. "Hand me that popcorn."

* * *

Elizabeth could tell Henry was still a little nervous. They watched Westley and Inigo fencing, and Henry was being a perfect gentleman, but she could tell he wasn't really into it. She had been tracing her fingers along his ab muscles for the past fifteen minutes, and she hadn't felt him release his tension yet.

"Henry," she whispered, "please relax."

"What?" He turned his head to her, not having heard her even though she was sitting right next to him.

"Relax." She kissed his neck.

"I am relaxed." He sounded surprised. "I'm snuggling here with you."

"You aren't enjoying yourself, and you're tense. Relax your muscles for me."

"I am enjoying this." Henry insisted, gesturing imprecisely at the TV and the two of them lying in bed.

Elizabeth sighed. "Henry, you can't be intimate with me if you don't enjoy me touching you."

"I'm telling you that I _am_ enjoying this!" Henry said with more than a little exasperation.

"When we were sitting downstairs yesterday, you were so much more relaxed than you are right now."

"Yeah, but that was different…"

"How was that different?"

"I wasn't trying to prove anything."

"And you're trying to prove something now?"

"I don't know." He tore his hand through his hair. "Yes. I guess."

Elizabeth kept herself quiet. She knew if she said anything, she'd only make everything worse. Forcing Henry to relax wouldn't work. He'd have to come around on his own time. And she could wait, even if she wished he would let her help…

* * *

"I'm going to turn on some music, is that okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. The theme music that was playing on repeat now that the movie had ended was beginning to get annoying.

Henry untangled himself and got up to take out the movie and put on a CD of classic love songs. He turned the volume down so it wasn't distracting, and then moved around the room to similarly turn the lamps down. There was a certain mood he was hoping to create, and bright lights wouldn't help.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. McCord?"

"Maybe I am. Is it working?" He made his way back to the bed to join her. He ran his fingers through her silky hair and kissed her gently.

"I don't know, yet. You'll just have to keep trying until we find out," she teased.

"I can do that."

"Shhhh, just kiss me."

"I can also do that."

They lay on their sides, facing each other. With their heads supported by the numerous pillows Elizabeth liked to keep on her bed, it was comfortable and relaxing to kiss each other.

Henry noticed her hands kept drifting to his chest. She was lazily drawing patterns up his arms and shoulders, but without fail, she would pause to feel his chest. He thought it was extremely endearing. For the most part, she didn't vocalize her thoughts. In her job, she couldn't afford to. But Henry could tell exactly how she felt about his chest.

His fingers were making similar mindless patterns against her back. Her body felt so slim, but still muscular. He loved feeling the movements of her body. With his hand on her back, he could feel her breaths slow into a steady rhythm as they settled into an unhurried exploration of each other.

The curve of Elizabeth's hip was tantalizing, and Henry slowly dragged his hand down to cup her hip in his palm. He had enjoyed looking at this piece of her anatomy as long as he had known her, and touching it now, in this tender, intentional way… He didn't quite understand how a simple touch, on the outside of her clothes, could feel so joyous and intimate. She was letting him touch her. Not only that, she wanted him to touch her. That mutual desire was sexy and made him feel secure in a way that words could not. He released a breath holding the tension that he hadn't been able to escape all through the movie. There was something about touching Elizabeth that drove away all of his other thoughts. She calmed him and helped him stay present.

As he moved his hand back and forth, Henry's hand accidentally slid under her shirt, and his skin met hers. Neither of them seemed to notice much, and neither would have cared, anyway. Their continued kisses were drugging them both into a delicious lethargy.

Without thinking too much, only wanting to feel Elizabeth pressed even closer to him, Henry gently massaged her back beneath her shirt. His hand pulled her to him, and she loved the feeling of security he gave her. Henry had made her feel protected, as he held her gently. Elizabeth felt herself relax, soothed by Henry's presence and touch. Her body felt like a limp noodle, and she never wanted to leave the sanctuary of the bed. She wanted to stay exactly where she was forever. Forget work. Forget food, even. Nothing mattered but holding Henry to her, feeling his warmth and strength and love…

When Elizabeth finally came out of her musings long enough to realize that Henry's hands were on her back, she took it as permission to touch him the same way. She reached under his shirt, and Henry sat up a bit, letting her take it off him. She dropped it lazily on the floor, and then leaned in to kiss his chest where she had been so fascinated before.

Henry stroked her hair and shoulders as she kissed his body, reveling in the pure love she was giving him. When she came up for air, he hooked a finger gently under her chin.

Elizabeth understood and let Henry kiss her, their tongues meeting softly, reverently.

When they broke apart, Henry spoke quietly. "May I undo a few of these buttons?" He ran his finger over the buttons holding her shirt closed across her collarbone.

Elizabeth smiled at how sweet he was. He asked to make sure it was okay, and not only that, he asked using correct grammar. "You may." She grinned up at him, kissing him again. One of her hands came up to help him with the buttons.

Henry kissed every centimeter of skin as it was exposed to him. He heard her sigh and internally congratulated himself. She was enjoying it, and that was his mission. Focusing in on his task, he mused that he was enjoying it, too.

"You're so beautiful, Elizabeth." Henry couldn't help but telling her as he leaned back to admire the swells of her breasts.

She blushed, a little self-conscious. For so many years, it had seemed her breasts only got in the way and gave her more hassle than they were worth. She had to worry whether or not she was showing too much cleavage. She had to worry if the size of her breasts were distracting. When she met with foreign leaders, she always had to ensure that she was properly covered, hidden, disguised, or otherwise obscured. Correspondingly, she nearly always wore minimizers. It had started after her first few overseas assignments with the CIA. It was just easier not to draw attention to herself if she kept her chest flat.

It wasn't that she didn't like her breasts… They had been pretty unremarkable until she joined the CIA and began the rigorous physical training program. All the pushups had given her quite the rack; it had made her blush. Men who would never have looked twice at her were suddenly interested because of her breasts, and that made her uncomfortable, even back then.

And then she had been overseas… and after that, it just seemed to keep herself as sexually unappealing as possible. She had kept her hair pulled back then, choosing to wear loose and bulky suits instead of anything that showed off her figure.

Elizabeth realized this was probably the first time Henry had seen her breasts up close when they weren't constrained into a minimizer. That was okay, though. There was a reason she hadn't cut on her breasts. She still hoped that someday, someone would want to look at them in a way that didn't make her skin crawl.

"You're not so bad yourself…" She teased, trying to cover up her slightly emotional silence.

Henry could tell she wasn't completely comfortable receiving compliments, but he was confident that with time, he could show her how truly beautiful she was, inside and out. He teased apart her lips with his tongue and kissed her. When he needed to breathe, he whispered against her cheek, "I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you, too."

Gesturing at her breasts again, Henry raised his eyebrows suggestively and asked, "May I?"

Elizabeth laughed at Henry being so predictable. "Yes. You may."

Henry growled hungrily and brought his mouth down to lick and tease her nipples. He heard a soft "oh" escape her and, his confidence boosted, he began to suck. He surprised her with an initial strong pressure, making her squeal in pleasure, but then restrained himself and teased her soothingly.

Feeling the tension in her body abate slightly now that Henry was gently licking and suckling, Elizabeth allowed herself to fall into the blissful confusion of so many pleasurable sensations. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the feeling of her body so close to Henry's body.

Henry could see peeks of the scars and bandages on her stomach, but he didn't push her shirt down to see them better. It would only make her upset, and at the moment, his mind was completely occupied with her breasts. He took his time, making sure Elizabeth had proof of exactly how much he loved her body. The feeling of her soft and supple skin against his lips reminded him how human his girlfriend was. During the day, she had to hide her soft side from the world, but at night, Henry could take those vulnerabilities and lavish them with the love and attention they deserved.

Elizabeth allowed herself to lose all sense of time and place as Henry used his mouth and hands to play her body like a musical instrument, wringing out of her a melody never before heard.

When she came back from the blissful carnality Henry had created for her, Elizabeth called out to him.

"Henry… Henry…" her words were weak.

He looked up from his position where he was placing kisses to the undersides of her breasts.

"Huh?"

"Kiss me, please."

"I am kissing you." He emphasized his point by pressing another gentle brush of his lips to the side of her breast.

She giggled. "No, kiss me properly."

Henry grinned and moved up to meet his mouth to hers.

They kissed hungrily, but they both knew things would not move much further. In a way, that kept things from becoming too frenzied or intimidating. They knew they could take as much time as they wanted.

"I love you, Henry."

"I love, too, baby."

Henry started to kiss her neck, and he felt her yawn.

Elizabeth was mortified. She didn't want Henry to think that she was bored. She wasn't bored at all – she was simply tired, and her body was relaxed.

"I'm not –"

"Shhhh." Henry cooed. "You've had a long day. It's okay."

It was okay, at least for that moment. Henry could see Elizabeth was enjoying herself immensely, and it made him feel good about himself to think that he had relaxed her enough that she was ready to sleep. She trusted him enough to allow him to see her tender side… her unprotected personality…

"Do you want to get some sleep? What do you want, babe?"

"Hold me?"

"Of course. All you have to do is ask."

Elizabeth smiled, tucking her head under Henry's chin. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep with Henry still there. That anxiety was buried too deep… sleeping in the presence of men was not something she was going to try to do. Not yet. But she could relax. She could trust Henry with her body while she was awake. As she settled into his arms, loving that she had access to his neck to press kisses to his collarbone, she realized that there was an incredible freedom in trusting Henry to love her and protect her.

Months ago, if she had thought about allowing someone to see her undressed, she would have worried that they would take advantage. But with Henry, she knew he would never hurt her, and she knew he was physically strong enough to keep anyone else from hurting her. On some level, her mind was comforted by his muscles and brawn.

Rubbing his chest with her fingertips, she had a strong desire to show him just how much he meant to her. He had loved her even when she had made it difficult. He had loved her even when she showed him exactly how unlovable she could be.

She kissed along his collarbone, holding onto his biceps. Amid his protests, she slid down, still held in his arms, to press kisses to his chest. Her fingers played with his nipples, making them harden.

"Elizabeth…" he croaked, surprised by how affected he was by her actions.

"Shhhh, I know it feels good."

He had to close his eyes. Her confidence was so alluring. He felt a need to hold her to him to make sure she stayed exactly where she was. He didn't want her to leave – not ever, really, and certainly not in this moment. Henry let his hand glide down her body to cup her luscious rear and squeeze gently. Her firm, muscular flesh felt supremely satisfying in his hand. She was a very slender woman, but she was strong. She had the freedom to leave at any time, and yet she chose to stay.

Henry couldn't think of anything sexier. Granted, he couldn't think of much at all when Elizabeth was kissing his chest the way she was.

He suddenly understood exactly why Elizabeth had yawned when he had done this to her. It was relaxing and intimate. The woman he loved was kissing him right over his heart, and she was letting him touch her in return. In that moment, the rest of the world didn't exist. Only the bedroom, their bodies, and their love were real. Nothing else mattered. They had created a bubble of peace and intimacy.

When they were both too tired to continue, Elizabeth sighed contentedly and rested her head against Henry's chest. The time they had spent together tonight would be something she would always treasure, even if they broke up in the morning. She had thought that this little exercise was entirely for Henry's benefit, but she had learned more about herself than she had expected. She learned that when she loved and trusted the man she was with, it was okay to let him touch her. A little bit of the fear was gone, replaced by patience and love.

Henry clutched his girlfriend, rubbing her hip lightly.

"Thank you." He didn't know how to express his gratitude for her help in overcoming his fears of intimacy, but he needed to say something.

"I think you already thanked me. You made me feel amazing, Henry. I can't remember a better night."

"Good."

"So are you convinced?" She knew Henry would know what she was referring to.

"I'm convinced."

"Good. I was never worried."

"I should probably head back home and let you get some sleep."

"Just a few more minutes…" She didn't want him to leave. She wished she were comfortable letting him stay the night.

Henry chuckled, playing with her hair. He didn't want to leave, either, but he knew Elizabeth wasn't ready for him to sleep over. She had only relaxed so much because she knew there was no pressure to have intercourse. They had discussed ahead of time what was okay, and Henry knew he needed to honor that if he wanted to keep her trust.

And dear God, did he want to keep her trust. It was the most valuable thing he had.

When he felt her starting to jolt awake every few seconds, Henry knew it was time to go. Her body was ready to sleep – her body needed sleep, and he wasn't going to keep her awake. Something in her eyes every time she forced herself to stay awake made him pause, though. He tucked it away in his mind for later thought. Now was not the time to ask questions, but he wanted to know what made her so nervous about falling asleep. The look in her eyes wasn't just embarrassment at falling asleep. There was some fear there, even though there was nothing remotely threatening in the bedroom.

But that night was not the night to discuss that. She needed sleep, and he knew it. He slid out of her arms and tucked a pillow under her head where he had been.

Elizabeth blinked up at him, confused by sleepiness.

"Go to sleep, baby. I love you." He kissed her cheek.

"Love you, too…" she managed to tell him.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night." Henry ran his hand over her hair and made sure her blankets covered her snugly so she wouldn't get cold.

As Henry gave his normal goodnight to Frank, he couldn't help but feel like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wouldn't necessarily call what they had done "sex," but he couldn't imagine that any penetration or orgasm would make him feel closer to Elizabeth than he felt while he was holding her and she lavished his chest with her love. In the future, they would probably remove more clothing or focus more on reaching orgasm, but he knew being unable to maintain an erection would never keep Elizabeth from feeling loved.

Of course, he thought, Elizabeth had never expressed any doubts. She had only ever offered him patience and support.

As he unlocked the door to his studio and turned on the light, he was able to survey his entire apartment. That was both the upside and downside of having a studio. He could see the bed on one side of the room, calling out for him to sleep and sink back into the relaxation he had felt at Elizabeth's. On the other side or the room, he could see his liquor cabinet... the closet he used for a liquor cabinet.

Tonight, though, it almost seemed like more effort to drink. He was tired, relaxed, and peaceful. The whiskey wouldn't make him feel any better than he already did.

With that realization in mind, he brushed his teeth, took off his clothes, and crawled into bed, still able to feel Elizabeth's presence with him.


	25. Yet don't forget the good old days

Chapter 24: Yet don't forget the good old days

A/N: I wanted to go ahead and post this chapter. It's shorter than the other ones I've been writing, but you're getting it early. I've also got my grandmother coming up this week, and I'll probably not have any chance to write because she needs minding.

I wanted to tell you that your fabulous reviews for last chapter really helped me get out of the funk I was in when I posted the last chapter. Thank you. And all the suggestions you've given me have been super helpful (and half of them are already exactly what I had planned...) Thank you all for being a wonderful fandom. You make writing fun.

And random side note, this chapter marks 200 pages on my word doc of this story. I have another 65 pages of content written past this, but most of that is one-page outlines for each chapter. The plan now includes a total of 63 chapters.

* * *

Starting the workweek was bittersweet for Elizabeth. She loved her job. She loved being able to make a difference and help people. Fixing things made her feel useful. But she didn't like that she had less time to spend with Henry. Certainly not now that she knew how much fun they could have just being alone. As late as she finished at the office each day, she was lucky to get a couple hours with him in the evening. It was only on the weekends that they could lock themselves in the bedroom for hours on end. And even then, that was only if no international incidents forced her back into the office.

Secretary of State was a great job, but eventually it would end, and then she might want a more normal 9-5 so she could spend more time with Henry.

When she got to her office Monday morning, she found someone already sitting in wait for her. Elizabeth sighed to herself, knowing she had put off the inevitable for as long as she could.

"Isabelle. So good of you to give me notice... I love being prepared for our meetings." Elizabeth's voice dripped with sarcasm, though she wasn't really angry. Isabelle was Isabelle, and that wasn't about to change.

"Oh whatever. This isn't work related. No need to pretend to read the briefing book before this meeting."

"I read my briefing books..." Elizabeth replied, rather indignantly.

Isabelle snorted. "No one reads the whole briefing book for each meeting. You're _supposed_ to skim them."

"So what can I do for you?" Elizabeth cut right to the chase.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Um..." She hedged. She had, in fact, been avoiding Isabelle. But she had to come up with a diplomatic answer. "I've been busy..."

"Well I'm taking you out to lunch today. It's already on your calendar. No getting around it."

"Blake!"

"Don't yell at him. I threatened him with dismemberment if he didn't get me on your schedule."

"Yes, ma'am?" Blake asked nervously, poking his head into the office.

Hearing Isabelle, Elizabeth deflated, though she was still annoyed. "It's... It's fine, Blake. Go back to your desk."

"Yes, ma'am." He ducked out quickly.

"You really could have just called, you know." Elizabeth sat down next to Isabelle, resignation in the set of her shoulders.

"I have been calling." Isabelle reminded her gently.

"I know. I really have been busy..."

"You need to make time for you. You need to have a few friends outside of work."

"Henry counts..."

"Yeah..." She shuffled her feet and shifted in her seat, "We'll talk about it over lunch. I'll let you get back to work. Let me know if there's anywhere special you want to go. I'll be here to pick you up at noon."

"Okay..."

"See you later."

Elizabeth sat, surprised and confused by Isabelle's sudden exit. The woman was hiding something, and the mention of Henry seemed to have set her off. What on earth could be up? Elizabeth knew she wouldn't get any answers until lunchtime, but she couldn't think what Isabelle would have an issue with...

* * *

"So do you want to explain why you had to kidnap me for this lunch?" Elizabeth asked, once they had been seated in the back corner of the restaurant. From the choice of tables, Elizabeth could tell Isabelle wanted privacy. It was private, but it wasn't a work-related or classified topic or they wouldn't have been out in public.

"Alright... I noticed something odd the other day..." Isabelle trailed off, trying to figure out how to explain without revealing how or why she knew what she did.

"On the clock or off?" Elizabeth interjected.

"Um, on..."

"Why don't we just go back to my office...?"

"I'm telling you this as a friend. I'm not going to tell you how I got the information, but I happen to know that Henry was in the hospital a couple weeks ago."

"You're running an op... never mind. Don't tell me." Elizabeth stopped herself. There was plenty of information the Secretary of State wasn't told. If she knew all of the ops being run before it was confirmed what was going on, she might make assumptions, and that was dangerous.

"He was in the hospital for acute alcohol poisoning. I saw the record." Isabelle almost held her breath, waiting for Elizabeth's reaction. She didn't know if Elizabeth would be devastated, scared, angry, or lost. Isabelle didn't have to wait long to find out.

"You shouldn't have seen it. There's no way that was in the scope of your work," Elizabeth responded snappily. She knew she should have waited to think things through before responding, but this was Isabelle. Isabelle was supposed to be her friend, and friends weren't supposed to ambush each other with stuff like this.

Isabelle had to hold herself back from matching her friend's ire. She was just trying to help, and now Elizabeth was mad at _her._ "Look, I'm just looking out for you here. I don't make a habit of breaking protocol."

Elizabeth's voice was cold now. "Isabelle, that's not protocol, that's a law. A lot of laws."

Flustered, Isabelle looked around and shifted in her seat. "I know you're having a hard time right now, and I know you're not talking to me about it. If you're talking to Henry, fine... But if there's a chance he's got a background you don't know about it, I'm not going to let that go."

Elizabeth shook her head. She was touched that Isabelle cared so much, but in this particular case, it was not helpful. "It's not your business."

"So you already know?"

Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Elizabeth conceded. "Yes. I know. I was there with him. Why didn't you pull the security cameras? I'm surprised you didn't know I was there."

"FISC wouldn't give us a warrant for the cameras," Isabelle muttered.

"Well I already know, and everything is fine. I appreciate your concern, but-"

Isabelle interrupted. "Everything is fine? Really?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth slapped her hand on the table in emphasis. "It's fine, and it's not your business."

"Bess... Come on..." Isabelle wheedled, trying to get her friend to see reason.

"No, Isabelle. I appreciate your concern, and I understand why it looks bad, but I'm aware of it, and it's fine. End of story," Elizabeth glared pointedly.

Isabelle tried to diffuse the situation. She could tell Elizabeth had just about had enough, but she still had things left to say before this conversation could end. "I just want to make sure that you're okay. If he's an alcoholic, you need to be careful... for a lot of reasons. If he's not treating you right, you know you can tell me. I just want to check him out before you get in too deep."

"You dragged me out here to tell me you want to check out my boyfriend?" Elizabeth raised one eyebrow, clearly teasing her friend, and just as clearly trying to change the subject.

Undeterred, Isabelle continued. "I don't want you to get too involved with him before we can make sure he's not a whacko. Certainly, before you start sleeping with him." Isabelle knew Elizabeth wasn't the type to sleep around, at least not since college. But she hadn't seen Elizabeth ever be so serious about someone. If this relationship was going to get serious, Isabelle felt a duty as a friend to make sure it passed the smell test.

Elizabeth blushed deep red.

Isabelle's eyes went wide. It didn't take CIA skills to know what that sudden blush meant. "Oh my god, you've already slept with him?!" she nearly screeched. It wasn't that it was weird for two adults to sleep together after dating for several months. It was that this was _Elizabeth._ Not that Isabelle knew absolutely everything about Elizabeth – there were definitely conversations that were off limits – but Isabelle knew how careful her friend was about men. Even if talking about the reason behind it was off limits, actions spoke for themselves.

Elizabeth didn't know what made her speak. Maybe it was that part of her was just as surprised as Isabelle at how quickly she had fallen in love with Henry. "He suggested moving in together, actually."

Taking a breath, Isabelle nodded to herself. "And you want to do it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I think we're ready."

Until that moment, Elizabeth hadn't really known she was ready for it, but now she had no doubts. They had had a disagreement and gotten back together. She knew they could sort things out, and she knew she couldn't lose him. She loved him too much. He was too good for her.

Still stunned, Isabelle shot back, "Well what do you have to say about him being in the hospital for alcohol poisoning?"

"I was with him. I'm still surprised your 'sources' missed that," she jabbed lightly.

"So you visited him, but do you really know the whole story?"

"I found him in his apartment and called 911." She cringed slightly at the memory. It seems like something out of a movie – and a horror movie at that.

"So is he actually an alcoholic?" Isabelle's voice was quieter now, and it had lost its venom. She could tell her friend was upset.

Elizabeth sighed. "It's complicated. The alcohol thing hasn't been going on that long. I think he'll be able to pull out of it eventually."

"You're going to try to save him?" Isabelle couldn't keep a hint of accusation from her words.

"No." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to try to save him. We tried that. It didn't work." She muttered the last part.

"So what do you see in him?"

Elizabeth shot back, "Aside from the dreamy eyes?"

This time Isabelle rolled her own eyes, but she held her tongue, silently demanding a better answer.

"He understands what it's like to be hurt."

"This is about…" Isabelle trailed off, silently thinking of the number of off limits topics they had had to skirt around over the years.

Elizabeth didn't know to what she was referring. _Fill in the blank,_ She thought. _Iran, Iraq, losing my parents…_ There was no shortage of things that had hurt Elizabeth.

"Yeah."

Isabelle wanted to hear about her friend's rationalization for letting Henry move in. There were a lot of questions that needed to be asked, but it would do no good to spook Elizabeth or make her feel like she couldn't talk. Isabelle was still worried about her friend. If, heaven forbid, Elizabeth ever wanted to cut as much as she had before… Isabelle wouldn't forgive herself if she alienated her to the point that she wouldn't reach out for fear of judgment. Of course, she still had concerns, and chief among them was uncertainty about how exactly Henry was treating Elizabeth. When Isabelle had met Henry, he had seemed fine, but they had really only met for a few moments. If he were hurting Elizabeth at all, Isabelle would make sure he paid in every way possible. But now was not the time for that. This was the time to remind Elizabeth that she had people who loved her no matter what.

Isabelle scrutinized her friend for a long moment before finally saying, "I trust your judgment… but not implicitly. He's been trained just like we have. He would know how to be deceptive if he wanted to."

"I know." Elizabeth's voice was sure.

"Well, I'm obviously not going to convince you of anything. But I'm going to check up on you occasionally…"

"I'd expect nothing less," she smiled in resignation.

"It's gonna be hard for me to let someone else help look after you. That's been my job for like thirty years now."

Elizabeth groaned. "Don't make me feel old. God..."

"Good point. Thirty years does sound pretty terrible." Isabelle commiserated. "Can you believe it's been thirty years since we were recruited and met?"

"We've made it through a lot of tight spots, that's for sure. Remember during training when I nearly got caught during the dead drop exercise?"

"Of course. I had to save your ass, didn't I? You would have flunked out if I hadn't gotten that guy off your tail!"

"Okay, but _you_ would have gotten the boot the very next week when _you_ couldn't translate the Morse code…"

"I haven't used Morse code probably since that unit of training," Isabelle laughed and rolled her eyes. "Fat lot of good it did me to try to cram that into my brain."

"Not that you tried very hard…" Elizabeth said, earning a glare from Isabelle. Quickly continuing before Isabelle had a chance to retort, "Yeah, I'm not sure they had updated that exercse since they first wrote the training manual in the '40s. It isn't really a necessary skill when we can just text each other."

"I should check if they're still making the kids learn it just to torture them…"

"Imagine if they are…" Elizabeth laughed, picturing a bunch of fresh college graduates having to sit through a class on civil war era technology.

"It'd probably violate the new anti-hazing policies…"

"Morse code? It's just math, really…"

"Okay, but we didn't _all_ get degrees in math. Some of us only passed calculus because the professors felt sorry for us."

"But math only starts getting fun after calculus…" Elizabeth teased.

"Right," Isabelle nodded once, firmly, before continuing, "but I peaked at algebra 2…"

"And somehow you still managed to succeed in life."

"I don't know if I'd call it success," Isabelle said in mock seriousness, "I've had to put up with you talking about math for the last thirty years."

As the two women settled up the bill, with Elizabeth figuring the tip in her head, Elizabeth couldn't help reflecting that a lot had happened in the thirty years she had known Isabelle. She had never imagined then what her life would turn out to be. Thinking back to the young woman she had been, thirty years seemed like a lifetime ago. But thirty years didn't sound like much at all when she thought about spending the time with Henry.

* * *

A/N: The next bit I need to write will be a little difficult. I have a scene where Henry is going to see some fresh cuts, and I still haven't thought through exactly what his reaction is going to be. So let me know in the reviews what you think his reaction to seeing minutes-old cuts would be. Particularly his internal reaction and thoughts.


	26. The ground beneath your feet

Chapter 25: The ground beneath your feet, like you've never had

A/N: Here you go. Leave me a review and let me know what you think. Thanks to all the people who have helped me work out some of my thoughts for the next few chapters. I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter done, but at least I know what I'm doing now. If anything, now I have too many ideas to fit into the same time period... Let me know if you want to help beta ;)

* * *

"Henry, slow down," she gasped for air. "This isn't fair."

They were running along the Potomac in Georgetown, and it was evident that while Henry had the benefit of his military training, Elizabeth had not gone jogging in years, probably since she became Secretary of State. She had enjoyed jogging when she was younger and needed a chance to get away from people or have a one on one conversation. But once she had her own place and her own office, she didn't really need the additional solitude.

"Come on, we've only gone a mile or two…"

"I don't…" she couldn't keep up and talk normally at the same time, "run."

"I can tell. But maybe you should take it up. It's a good way to work off stress." Henry spoke easily as he jogged next to his miserable girlfriend.

Elizabeth huffed, "How can… you… work off stress…. when this is… so awful…?"

Henry laughed. "It'll get easier the more you do it."

"Forgive me if… I don't… believe you…"

"Just about a mile to get back now. That's easy."

Elizabeth kept her mouth shut. She didn't think she'd live through another mile, but she wasn't about to let Henry beat her at anything. Her competitive nature wouldn't allow it.

Running with Henry, she had a chance to enjoy the sights. The river trail was a destination for runners, but there were also families with kids or older couples walking dogs. It seemed half the town was there on the beautiful evening. Of course her detail had formed a protective square of four agents with Henry and Elizabeth on the inside and everyone else on the outside. There were other agents further away, watching things from ahead and behind. But the river trail wasn't a particularly high-risk location, so no one was overly stressed.

Sounds of laughter drew her attention to two parents helping a young girl with blond pigtails swing in a small playground. It made her smile, seeing how happy the family was. She thought that must be what her own family had looked like when she was that age. It was nice to think that people were still enjoying something as simple as swinging at a playground.

As she dragged her head back to the front, she noticed a single man running alone. He was probably in his early fifties. The hungry way he looked at her made her suddenly self-conscious of the low, scooped neckline on her tank top and the fact that her sports bra was peeking through. The man wasn't taking his eyes off her chest, and while Elizabeth knew she was safe with her detail around her, she couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized. She knew as soon as she passed the man, he would turn to ogle her from behind. There was something in the look that set her off, but she couldn't have articulated what it was. She knew it made her uncomfortable, but there was some memory at the back of her mind that she just couldn't put her finger on. Something about the way he looked like he was greedily drinking in the sight of her without caring who she was… Elizabeth didn't want to think about it and tried to put it from her mind.

Suddenly feeling energized to get home, she redoubled her efforts and began to give Henry some tougher competition in the last stretch of their run. She didn't look back once. After a few blocks, she was able to get back into the flow of the run. Georgetown was a scenic part of the city, and there were plenty of historic homes lining the streets. She so rarely got a chance to look at the neighborhood she lived in because she usually left as the sun was coming up and returned long after the sun was down.

"That wasn't too bad for a beginner," Henry complimented as they returned to the townhouse.

Elizabeth pretended to punch him in the arm. "For a beginner..."

"Well you are a beginner. No shame in that," he teased her, grinning broadly.

"Whatever. I'm claiming first shower." She started up the stairs, ready to wash the sweat off her body.

Henry frowned slightly. It wasn't like Elizabeth to be so eager to get away from him. They had a whole evening planned. He'd just have to keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay, he reasoned. Nothing dramatically wrong just yet, but his intuition was telling him something was up.

Realizing that he was standing still, gazing up the staircase, Henry shook himself and began preparing the elaborate system of sealable bags that would provide their entertainment for the night. He was going to teach her how to make ice cream. Although it had been years since he had done it in Boy Scouts, a quick internet search had given him instructions and a recipe. He thought it would be a good activity to do with Elizabeth because she loved ice cream, and it was zany enough to be memorable and let her relax her professional facade for a couple of hours.

When Elizabeth came downstairs, hair still damp, Henry handed her a glass of iced tea and watched her flop down on the sofa in front of the TV. She seemed back to normal. He could tell she was tired from the run, but he knew she would perk up once he told her about the ice cream. First, though, he needed to get a shower himself.

He ascended the stairs as he listened to Elizabeth complain about the products for sale on HSN. Everything was definitely normal, he thought with a chuckle.

* * *

"Okay, so once you've put all that in your bag and sealed it tight, you put it in the bag of ice and shake it."

Elizabeth held her lower lip between her teeth in concentration. Making ice cream seemed fun so far, but she didn't understand why they couldn't just eat out of the carton like they usually did. Henry had assured her that homemade ice cream tasted better, but she wasn't yet convinced that it could possibly be worth the extra work.

When she started to shake the bag of ice, she realized _really_ how much work was involved. Her arms were exhausted after only thirty seconds, and her hands were freezing. The ice was much louder than she anticipated, and she could tell Henry was trying to say something, but for the life of her, she couldn't understand him. After a minute, though, the silliness of it all began to make her smile. She and Henry stood in the middle of the kitchen shaking bags of ice. There was a pleasant burning in her arms from the exertion, releasing a small stream of endorphins into her system. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the burning, almost painful sensation in her muscles. The slight pain of it, and the pain of her cold hands kept her grounded and made her feel like she could relax. The sharp sensation was real. Henry was real. Everything else was in the past.

It took longer than either of them was expecting for their concoctions to turn into ice cream, but by the end of it, they each had a small bowlful of their own personalized ice cream flavors. Elizabeth had put salt and caramel in hers, and Henry had put in three kinds of chocolate.

They sat facing each other on either end of the sofa, eating their ice cream and watching TV. Their feet tangled gently in between them.

"I hate to say it, but this is delicious," Elizabeth said with a grimace.

"I know," Henry shared a similar frown. "It's so good, but it's way too much work."

"I'm not going to be able to move my arms tomorrow." She could already tell from how heavy the bowl and spoon felt in her hands. Every time she brought the spoon to her mouth, she could feel her bicep trembling.

"I'll have to tell the guys at the office that I was lifting weights."

"Got to maintain that macho appearance, huh, tiger?" She sucked the ice cream off her spoon suggestively.

"I am macho..." Henry winked at her with his own spoon in midair, momentarily forgotten at the sight of her.

She laughed, tilting her head back. "Fine. Tell the boys you lifted weights all evening. But I'll know the truth." She leaned in to kiss him, mostly so she could surreptitiously get a taste of his ice cream.

"Mmmm," Henry enjoyed the taste of Elizabeth's ice cream, too. "Well, I can't let my secret get out, so I'll just have to keep you home tomorrow so you can't tell anyone."

"Oh yeah?" She flirted, raising an eyebrow. "And what do you suppose we'll do all day?"

"I have some ideas," he nearly growled the words as he wiggled his eyebrows overdramatically. He set their empty bowls aside and then pulled her to him, tickling her sides.

Elizabeth giggled at his antics. She loved that he would take a joke and run with it, teasing her and acting silly. It was something she hadn't gotten to do before she had known Henry. She always had to be professional and ready to impress people. But not with Henry. He loved her – all of her.

Still laughing, she pressed herself against him so he couldn't tickle her. They both let out a little sigh at the feeling of being physically reconnected. It was soothing. The ice cream had cooled them off from their earlier exertions, and snuggling up together on the couch was the perfect way to warm up again.

After holding Elizabeth close for a moment, Henry reached for the remote, keeping one arm securely around her waist. He didn't want to let her go, not that she looked like she would dream of it at the moment. She was practically boneless against him, tired out from their run and put into a pleasant stupor by the ice cream. As he turned on the TV, Henry could tell that Elizabeth would not care much about what they watched. She looked like she was ready to fall asleep.

For the next half hour or so, Henry held his exhausted girlfriend while they watched a Harry Potter movie that was airing on TV. He loved feeling her body pressed up against his. He loved getting to see her relaxed. No one else got to see this side of her, and it made him understand the trust she had in him. It was a heady thought, that he had made her feel this good, and that he got to hold her while she was so open and serene.

Elizabeth was again fighting sleep. Her eyelids drooped further every time Henry ran his hand gently down her spine. While she never had a problem with staying awake in front of other people, with Henry, it always seemed as if her body was half ready to relax into sleep. It would have been a great thing if only she wasn't still scared of sleeping in front of other people. She wanted to fall asleep in front of Henry, but she hadn't slept with other people in the room since she had been in Iraq with the CIA.

Iraq. _Iraq._

A thought struck her, startling her awake and alert. That runner she had seen - the one who had been ogling her... She had recognized that look in his eyes... She had seen that look before, and it had been in Iraq. THAT was why it had unnerved her so much. She shivered as she thought about it. Could that runner have been like the guys in Iraq? Could he have wanted the same thing? And not cared what it took to get it? Another chill ran through her as she contemplated what could have happened on their run.

She should have known. Going running was a mistake. For one, there was no good reason for her to be out in public like that. For two, her outfit probably hadn't helped. She made it too easy for the guy to get those ideas in his head. If she really wanted to take up running, she could have just bought a treadmill and put it in the spare bedroom...

She started to get up from the couch where she was still practically draped on top of Henry. Elizabeth knew the only thing that would make the uncomfortable feeling of being watched go away was cutting. The only way she could get her mind off of it was to give herself something else to think about.

Henry tightened his grip ever so slightly around Elizabeth. He had no idea why she had suddenly jumped as if she had been touched with a hot poker. Had she been asleep? A nightmare maybe? He didn't want to make her feel trapped, but he did want to remind her that he was there and he wouldn't let anything hurt her.

"Hey... hey... It's okay. What's wrong?" He spoke softly, trying not to startle her further.

Elizabeth took in a breath through her nose and let it out slowly. It was just Henry. She could trust Henry. Having his arms around her was still comforting because she knew Henry would never hurt her. She knew he loved her. Taking another deep breath, she consciously relaxed herself back into Henry's arms and buried her face in his shoulder. He was warm and solid and loving and everything she needed in that moment. Even if she went to cut, she would have to do everything on her own... But with Henry, she could trust him to take some of the weight... some of the responsibility for her safety. He wouldn't let anything bad happen.

Feeling her relax in his arms again, Henry kissed her temple and rubbed her back, wrapping her up in a hug.

"It's okay. I've got you," he reminded her gently.

He still didn't know what was wrong, but what he was doing seemed to be working. He could tell the best thing he could do at the moment was make sure she felt safe enough to tell him what was bothering her so much.

"Just keep holding me," Elizabeth murmured, her words slightly muddled because her face was still hidden in Henry's shirt.

"Shhh... I'm not going anywhere, babe," Henry reassured, feeling her body trembling slightly against him. "I love you. I'm here."

She nodded against his shoulder and then let the steady rise and fall of his chest help her regulate her own breathing. She realized her lungs had only been taking in short, shallow breaths.

Henry tried to give her some time to collect herself, so he pretended to watch the movie where three children were jumping down a trapdoor into some large plant that was supposed to create dramatic tension. Every few minutes he would place a small kiss to the top of her head or rub her back encouragingly. He knew she wouldn't talk before she was ready, but he was glad that she was staying calm and seemed to be relaxing more and more as the minutes ticked on.

Elizabeth glanced at the TV as the giant chess game began. It had always been one of her favorite parts. She thought giant chess sounded like fun... Resting her cheek against Henry's chest, she felt him kiss her again. He really was the sweetest man she could ask for. He hadn't pushed her or made her feel self-conscious the whole time. She closed her eyes, listening to the rest of the movie. The exhaustion was really starting to get to her. The allure of sleep was beckoning. She wished Henry didn't have to go home. She wanted him to hold her like this all night. Snuggling with Henry calmed her better than cutting would have. The stupid runner didn't matter when she had Henry with her. She had everything she wanted, and some dirty old man couldn't take that away.

As the movie ended, Henry glanced at his watch and realized it was time for him to be heading home. He didn't want to leave Elizabeth, though. She hadn't yet told him what had caused her to get all nervous, and she was still obviously pretty vulnerable. With a click of the remote, he turned off the TV and wrapped both arms around Elizabeth, looking down at her where she was still resting against him.

Elizabeth knew that this would not be the night to try sleeping in the presence of a man for the first time in nearly twenty years. She was still a little on edge... but she wished she could throw caution to the wind and let Henry hold her like this until dawn. The idea of it sounded heavenly... waking up in the arms of the man she loved, knowing he loved her, too.

Not tonight, but eventually... Eventually she wanted to wake up to the sun streaming across her face as Henry held her. That way, even in sleep, they would be connected. She would wake him with kisses and snuggle against him, preparing herself for the day, knowing that no matter what happened, she would always have their bond of love and safety to return to.

She had to shake herself from her fantasy as she heard Henry speak.

"How you doing?" He asked gently.

"I'm good," she nodded slightly, looking up at him and seeing his concern.

He looked doubtful. "You sure?"

She loved that he really wanted to hear what had been bothering her. "I'm sure. I'm okay now," she spoke honestly. "We both need some sleep."

"Yeah," Henry yawned, trying to hide it.

"Will you have time to come eat lunch with me at work tomorrow?"

"I'll make time." Henry smiled and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose.

Elizabeth giggled and forced herself to get up, extricating herself from his arms. She heard Henry groan as he got up before pulling her into a hug.

Henry didn't want to leave her, but he knew he had to. He settled for giving her a goodnight kiss that left her breathless and hanging onto him.

"I love you, Elizabeth. I'll see you tomorrow. Text me if anything comes up, okay?"

She knew he meant both that she should text him if anything came up that prevented them getting lunch together and that she should text him if she needed him during the night.

Nodding, she smiled up at him. "I will. I love you, too."

After another quick hug, Henry gathered his things and headed out the door, giving his customary goodnight to Frank.

Elizabeth climbed the stairs alone, wishing she didn't have to go through that heart-wrenching goodbye every night. As she got to the landing, she looked at the guest bedroom next to hers with a thoughtful gaze. Henry had suggested they move in together weeks ago. It hadn't been the right time then, not when the only reason he wanted to move in was so he could keep her from cutting... But now... Maybe now would be a good time. He could move into the guest room, so it wouldn't really be rushing things...

Climbing into bed, she contemplated the idea. If Henry had his own room, they could take their time getting used to living with each other. As much time as they spent together, they practically lived together except for sleeping in separate places, and they could still sleep in separate rooms... She was confident she could get to sleep without a problem if Henry were next door, and she could slowly work her way up to letting him sleep in the same bed.

Of course, Henry would have to agree to the idea. But she had a suspicion that he would agree without too much convincing...

As she fell asleep, she made a plan to dust off the room and clean the linens the next weekend so she could see what Henry thought of her idea.

* * *

Saturday evening, after another week at work, sitting in a quiet restaurant in Arlington, Elizabeth poked at her food. She was trying to figure out a way to ask Henry to move in. She had cleaned the room that morning and gotten everything ready, but she still needed to spring the idea on Henry.

"What's on your mind, babe?" Henry could tell she was preoccupied.

"Um... You know how you suggested we move in together?" She started, figuring the best thing to do would be to just take the plunge.

Henry shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to pressure you."

"You aren't. I want you to move in." She said it confidently, but inside, she was nervously awaiting his answer, half expecting him to tell her that he just didn't want to live with her.

"Really? You want me to move in?"

"Yeah. I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

Henry stopped her with a look, "Of course I want to. I just want to make sure you don't feel pressured or rushed."

"I don't. I hate having to say goodbye to you every night. I wish you could just stay," she admitted quietly.

Henry waited until her eyes met his so he could say with conviction, "If it's what you want, it's what we'll do."

"I don't think I'm ready to... to share a bedroom. That's not anything about you... I just... need more time. But I've got the guest room all ready, and it's yours if you'll have it."

"The guest room would be good. I don't want us to rush this. I want us to do this right."

"Me too."

They shared a long look before going back to their meal. It was a big step for them, but one that got them closer to where they both wanted to be.

* * *

"Is that it?" Elizabeth asked looking at the half dozen suitcases in front of them filled mostly with Henry's clothes and a few kitchen gadgets Elizabeth didn't already own. They were standing in Henry's apartment having finished cleaning out his closets.

"I think so. I'll put the computer and cords and stuff in this box, so nothing gets broken."

"Sounds good. You've got quite a library. I guess I never really noticed before." She stood gazing up at the bookcases that lined one corner of his tiny apartment. She loved how many books he had. Every subject. History, religion of course, but also political science, economics, geography, and fiction…

"Yeah. We'll have to figure out how to integrate our libraries, I guess. But let's get professional movers to do that." He had no desire to throw his back out lifting books.

"Definitely. But there's plenty of space for all these books." She surveyed his little office nook with the tiny desk in front of the bookcases. "We could move this desk into the office or we could get another one to match the one I've got."

"Let's just get a matching one. This one's not worth much. I think I got it at Ikea."

Looking down at the suitcases, she lightly slapped her thighs, ready to get to work. "Well you want to take this stuff now? We've got time to figure the rest out." Elizabeth grabbed two suitcases and started for the door with Henry in tow.

They had decided to hang onto Henry's apartment for another month, just in case anything went wrong. It seemed like the responsible thing to do. He'd have to give his thirty days notice pretty soon, though.

* * *

As Elizabeth helped him put away his things into the dresser in the guest bedroom – his bedroom – now, Henry had something on his mind. He felt like they needed to discuss it before he spent his first night at her house – their house.

"So I think we need to talk about… Some of the practicalities of living together."

"You've got your own bathroom. There should be enough hot water for both showers, but I've never tested it. We can run to the grocery store here in a bit and stock up the kitchen…"

"No… I mean… Like…" He could tell Elizabeth hadn't understood his meaning. "I mean like our nightly routines. Like… what happens after I usually go home."

Eyes widening slightly, Elizabeth realized what he was saying. "Oh. Yeah… I guess we probably should talk about that." She sat on the bed, looking down at her hands.

"I assume you still cut some," Henry started tentatively, not wanting to talk about his own habits.

"Yeah. And I assume you still drink some."

"Yeah."

Elizabeth hated knowing she had to say her next words, but she also knew she had to protect herself. "I can't handle you being falling down drunk. And if you ever… If you ever get angry or something like that, this isn't going to work out…"

"Of course," he placated her. "But none of that is going to happen. I usually go home and have a couple drinks to get to sleep and that's about the size of it."

She nodded. That seemed acceptable. He still sounded dependent on it, and that wasn't good, but a couple drinks a night for a grown man was no where near the dangerous level of drinking he had been doing when she first met him.

"I usually cut some at night and then in the morning before work." She left off the part about her nightmares that would wake her with the urge to cut. Not so much the urge to cut… It was either cut or have a panic attack…

Henry nodded. He hadn't really expected Elizabeth would have stopped cutting, but part of him had been hoping she didn't still need it.

"Well, I'll be just down the hall if you ever need me…"

Elizabeth shook herself from her gloom about how much their vices still had control of them. She was happy Henry was moving in. She wouldn't have to say goodbye to him anymore. He'd be in the next room. This was a happy day. It was a milestone for both of them. They had managed to maintain a serious relationship.

* * *

A/N: I need ideas for future chapters. If Henry and Stamford become friends, what sort of bonding activities would they do? Going out for drinks is obviously out...

For the suggestion about showing their birthdays... Give me more ideas there. I'm not sure what you want to see. Personally, birthdays don't do anything for me at all, so I need some more help thinking about what kind of interesting things could happen.

If you're familiar with alcohol dependency or self-injury, please let me know if there are any issues about these topics that I haven't covered and you'd like to see explored. I wrote this because I had never seen a fic adequately discuss all the issues around self-injury and self-injury recovery, but I'm just one person, and I want to have a thorough discussion of the topic. Similarly, let me know about any topics you'd like to see surrounding sexual or violent trauma. Thanks, y'all!


	27. When you're feeling low

Chapter 26: When you're feeling low, and you just don't know where to run

* * *

 _"Those weapons could be anywhere? You've got to be kidding me! This isn't amateur hour! You all need to get your act together or this is going to blow up. General, those weapons should never have left your base. Bess, I refuse to accept that you can't keep track of transnational terrorists. You know how CIA works. If they aren't doing their job, go knock some heads together. You should know where these guys are. Fix it. Now."_

President Dalton's words were still echoing in her head. He was right. Weapons – bombs and drones and guns and possibly other things – had been stolen from a military facility in Texas. That was the military's fault. But she had lost track of several rogue HS members. Now that Disah had been killed, the 'organization,' if it could be called that, was in disarray, and they were highly unpredictable. And somehow, they had managed to escape surveillance.

And that was her fault. Of course. What a great way to start a Monday morning.

The president had told her to fix it. It was her job, after all.

But she couldn't fix it when her brain was still focused on how embarrassed she felt after Conrad's scolding. She was ashamed and just wanted to crawl in a hole. She couldn't, though. The Secretary of State had to go fix it.

That meant Elizabeth had to 'fix it,' and that meant something a little different than international intrigue. She _could_ 'fix' all the uncomfortable emotions and thoughts running through her. She just had to lose a little blood.

* * *

When she got back to her office from the White House, she meant to cut, but she never got a chance. Nadine pulled her into a strategy meeting, and then she was meeting with so many agency heads, ambassadors, and, it seemed to her, anyone who asked.

All in all, it was nearly time to head home, and the urge to cut had been festering all day. Elizabeth had done her job. She _deserved_ a chance to relieve the pressure. Her skin felt tight, like the emotional pressure had physically built up, and her skin was screaming with the strain – the need to split open.

Just before leaving, she picked up the phone to call Henry. It occurred to her that now that he lived with her, he would _really_ see her. He'd see her even when she felt like crap. So far, they had said their good nights and closed their bedroom doors because they were so tired from moving. Henry hadn't seen her when she was nervous like she was every night. Her stress now wasn't the standard fear of having nightmares, but it would still be new for Henry to see since he had moved in.

She didn't want to have to pretend to be okay, and she didn't want to have to come up with words… It would just be easier if she could call and say she was tired so he wouldn't expect much from her. If she could just sit in her room and not have to think about any of it. She could watch TV or surf the web… anything not work related. If she could cut and then veg out for a while, everything would be okay. Part of her wanted Henry to cuddle her, but she was so desperate to cut, she knew cuddling couldn't make it better. It was too late now. Maybe if she had caught it earlier before she was too upset… maybe then cuddling would have worked…

What would be really perfect would be if she could cut and then have Henry cuddle her. She knew he probably wouldn't go for that, but that was really what she wanted.

Her mind was tumbling through scenarios where Henry realized she wanted to cut and yelled at her – even though that had never happened before. Or maybe he would stop her from cutting, and that would be just as bad. Everything seemed like a possibility, and she needed to preempt it before it became a problem. She just wanted to call him and let him know that she wouldn't be up for much. So he wouldn't feel bad... so she wouldn't hurt him... so she could hear his voice... so he could tell her that everything would be okay...

"Hey, Henry…" She started speaking the second she heard him pick up the line, before he had even said anything.

"Hey, babe."

His voice sounded strained to her, but she didn't want to stop to examine it. Her rushing thoughts wouldn't stop churning, and trying to slow herself down would be nearly impossible.

"I'm on my way home. I'm really tired, though, so I think I may go straight to bed…" _That seems reasonable. People get tired. They go to bed early. That's a normal thing to do._

"Fine. That's fine, babe. No worries."

Again, with the short response. It didn't seem much like Henry.

"Okay, um, see you in a bit then."

"Yeah. See you."

 _That was odd,_ Elizabeth thought, but she didn't dwell on it much. She was just glad that Henry hadn't dug into what was really going on. She didn't much want him hovering around when she desperately needed to cut, but she also didn't relish the idea of cutting at work. Even if she was still going to cut, she wanted to be closer to Henry. With how worked up she was, though, he'd notice the second she walked in the door. Elizabeth couldn't take that confrontation, so better head it off before she got there. Let him know that she was tired, and then she could go cut... and then maybe they'd still be able to have a nice evening together. At least she could hope.

* * *

Before the phone rang, Henry had been pacing up and down the length of the townhouse, trying to get the persistent thoughts to leave his head. He wanted to drink. Work had been hell. It had been hell for everyone at DIA. A couple truckloads of arms gone missing, and DIA was not a pleasant place to be. Everyone had been on edge all day, and there had been no break to the stressful atmosphere.

When he hung up the phone, Henry could tell that Elizabeth was upset. Probably for the same reason he was. A phone call could only do so much, he knew, so he hadn't tried to get her to talk. She was headed home, and that would be better for both of them. He could try to get her to relax once he had her in person. And maybe she could help him try to avoid the urge to drink. At least now he knew he couldn't run off to a bar or liquor store. Elizabeth was expecting him to be there when she got home.

As long as he didn't drink before she got home. If he could make it until then, he knew she would give him a distraction, at least for a while. Even hearing about her bad day would help keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control. He just needed something to help him focus on something other than his desire to drink. He didn't want to drink, but if his mind didn't have anything else to do, he would just start thinking over every bad memory he had.

* * *

"I'm home!" Elizabeth called towards the kitchen as she dropped her briefcase and threw her jacket in the vague direction of the closet. She assumed Henry would be in the kitchen rustling up something for dinner.

When she didn't hear any response, she went through to the living room and found him pacing mindlessly from the kitchen to the living room and back. He seemed completely lost in his head without even registering her arrival.

"Henry?" she asked, slightly worried.

Startling, he noticed her. "Hey, babe. You're home." He moved to kiss her chastely in greeting. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay? What's up?"

"Rough day, I guess." He tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. They both knew what was on their minds, but they couldn't discuss it. It was a 'benefit' of working in the intelligence community, just like a retirement plan and free annual flu shots. There were some things you couldn't even tell your spouse… or boyfriend.

"Right, well... We're off the clock now."

Henry took a breath and released it, trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest. "You're right. I made some dinner. Nothing fancy..."

"Don't worry about it, Henry. I'm not picky tonight."

He nodded, not having much energy to come up with something to say. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Before he knew what was happening, he felt Elizabeth press up against him and wrap her arms around him.

Elizabeth buried her face in Henry's chest. She could feel that he was hurting, but there was some comfort having him there with her. The pain was still there, but the desperation was gone. When they were together, there was at least some peace. She knew he wouldn't yell at her or criticize her. She still wanted to cut, but it could wait until they had eaten.

Henry had not been expecting Elizabeth practically throwing herself at him, but he couldn't say he was displeased. It was some relief to know that she still wanted him – that she still found comfort in him. At least it was something good at the end of a bad day. At least he wasn't alone.

…at the least the whole world hadn't ended. Elizabeth was still safe. They would both live to see another day, no matter how dire things had felt earlier in the day.

All through dinner, they could each tell the other was struggling. Elizabeth now had a pretty good idea what had been going on when she had called. He had probably been pacing ever since he got off work. She could tell he was itching for a drink, and it was taking every bit of his emotional strength to abstain.

Henry watched Elizabeth pick up her knife to slice through the leftover meatloaf he had heated up. Every time she gripped the utensil, he could see her take a small breath. He knew she wanted to drag the knife across her skin instead of the meatloaf. He could see her gripping the handle a bit too tightly and with a bit too much attention.

In short, they were both a mess.

When they were done with their dinner, Henry stacked the dishes in the sink, but left them there. Doing dishes was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

"Come here..." He reached for his girlfriend's hand.

"Henry, I just want to go lie down..." She pulled towards the stairs, but let Henry keep a hold on her hand.

"Me, too. But we're going to go for a walk." He knew they needed to get out of the house. "If we hurry, we might get out there before the sky is pitch black."

Resignedly, she nodded. "Okay. I'll get changed if you'll let the guys know."

"I can do that." He pulled her in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

* * *

"I'm sorry I'm not better company tonight. I'm just..." Elizabeth trailed off, kicking lightly at the stray leaves on the sidewalk.

Henry walked beside her, with her arm in his. "It's not like _I'm_ great company tonight. You're fine. Some days just aren't good days."

"I just wish I could make you feel better."

Henry kissed her cheek. "I know, babe. But having you here is enough. Having you here reminds me how much I love you."

Elizabeth thought about that a moment. "I love you, too, Henry."

Their love didn't really change anything about the situation, but the fact that Henry still wanted to tell her he loved her – that his love wasn't wavering when things got hard – made her feel like things would truly be okay. Her life wasn't completely in turmoil if she still told Henry she loved him at the end of the day.

* * *

After their walk, they tried putting on a movie in the living room, but neither of them was really watching it. They were cuddling, and it made them feel a little less lost, but it certainly wasn't their normal cuddling. Neither of them had the energy for the gentle, loving banter they normal had. All they could manage to do was cling to one another, hoping the next day would be better.

They knew nothing they could say would make anything better, and it certainly wouldn't alleviate their internal battles. Elizabeth still wanted to cut, and Henry still wanted to drink. Elizabeth knew it might help to be able to tell Henry about her disastrous meeting with the president, or at least the vague outline she could share about it, but she knew he didn't have the energy to listen to her because she didn't have the energy to hear about how difficult his day had been. It was all too much. She knew his day had been bad for the same reason hers had been, and she just couldn't handle thinking about it.

"I guess we're quite the pair tonight..." Henry mused.

"Looks like it..."

"We didn't really plan what would happen if we both had a bad day at the same time."

"It sucks."

Henry snorted lightly. Elizabeth didn't mince words – that was for sure. "Yes, it does," he agreed.

"I don't like it."

"I don't like it, either, babe."

"I hope this doesn't become a regular thing... I hate not being able to make you feel better... I just can't right now..."

"I know. Don't feel guilty. It's just a bad day. They're going to happen."

"No one has to tell us that bad days are going to happen..."

Henry didn't have anything to say to that. Elizabeth was right. They had both been through too much to think that everything would be rosy.

"Are we going to be able to make this work, Henry? I mean... us living together... What happens when we both want to...?"

"We talked about this, babe..."

"Not really," she countered.

"We both knew what we were getting into. Sometimes I fuck up and get drunk, and sometimes you cut and scare the shit out of me." His patience was running thin.

Elizabeth froze. Henry had nailed the point that had her so nervous. She couldn't live with him if he were drunk. She had already threatened him about that particular point, but where was the line? Kicking him out for having one or two drinks was hardly reasonable, particularly seeing as how she still had every intention of cutting that evening. But allowing him to drink... could she do that? The thought of it made her shiver.

Feeling his girlfriend shiver snapped Henry out of his frustration. He knew he had stung her with his words, and he felt terrible. This was exactly why he wanted to be alone with a drink… or six.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"No, Henry. You're right. I know you want to drink right now just as much as I want to cut."

He held her tighter, grimacing, but he couldn't deny her words. They were both struggling.

"But we're trying. We're both trying. I'm not going to let you give up, and you're not going to let me give up, either."

* * *

A/N: I decided to split this scene into two chapters because it got unreasonably long. The second part is off for betawork, so it should be up soon.

Thank you all for the encouraging comments about my job search. I now have two new jobs, one normal day job and one on weekends. The nice thing is that while neither of them really pays great - my day job doesn't even pay minimum wage, I have a lot of downtime to do homework and write. Both jobs are within a couple blocks of the White House, so going out for lunch is always a game of "what gossip will I overhear from White House staffers sitting at the next table?"

I'm still hoping I'll find a better job soon, but at least now I've got time to look without pressure.

But also, you should write your member of Congress and complain about how many people work for less than minimum wage in DC.

Anyway, let me know what you think of the chapter, and I always love to hear your ideas and suggestions. One thing a reviewer mentioned that I forgot to work in is the media's reaction to Henry moving in with Elizabeth. So your reviews really do make the story better!


	28. Sleepless hours clock hands may take

Chapter 27: Sleepless hours clock hands may take

* * *

The evening grew later, settling further into the dark of night, and neither of them moved. They knew as soon as one of them gave up and went to bed, that was as good as giving the other permission to cut or drink.

Henry knew he'd never be able to get to sleep without a drink, and he needed to get enough sleep to be functional at work the next day. In the morning, they'd all be back to the grind of finding the stolen weapons. He needed his game face on, and that meant he needed some sleep.

When they yawned for the umpteenth time, they shared a sheepish look.

"We both need sleep," Elizabeth acknowledged.

"I know..."

"I'm not going to be able to sleep without cutting, and you're not going to be able to sleep without a drink, are you?"

Henry hung his head in apology and a touch of shame.

Elizabeth continued. "So, either we're going to have to negotiate a little here, or neither one of us is going to get any sleep tonight."

"You'd let me drink?" Henry was surprised.

"I... Of course, I don't want you drinking... but I'd feel better if I knew how much you drank." She didn't add that it scared her to think of having a drunken man in her house.

"And I don't want to have to worry that you've accidentally cut too deep..." Henry followed her logic.

Steeling herself to make the offer, Elizabeth took a breath before continuing, "What if... What if you let me measure out your drink, and... and I'll let you look over my cuts when I'm done so you don't worry?"

Henry's stomach flipped a bit at the thought of seeing her cuts fresh, knowing he was about to essentially give her permission to hurt herself... He didn't want to see her in pain... But he knew if he didn't agree, she might cut herself worse.

"You won't cut yourself after I go to bed?"

"If you won't drink after I go to bed..."

"Okay," Henry agreed. "I can live with that."

"Good, because I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight," she joked with a half-hearted grin.

Elizabeth got up and moved to her liquor cabinet. She had a fair stash because she hardly ever drank, but she did occasionally need to entertain. "Whiskey?"

"Yes, please."

"And how much do you think is reasonable?"

"Um, maybe three shots worth?"

Elizabeth thought, looking at a rocks glass and eyeballing about four ounces. It was technically less than he had asked for, but she hoped he would accept it.

"How's that?" She asked, holding out the glass to him.

Henry nodded his thanks and set the glass in front of him as Elizabeth put the bottle away. He wasn't going to drink in front of her. It would feel too embarrassing. He didn't want to need this crutch.

Elizabeth glanced at Henry as she started ascending the stairs. Their agreement was set, and there wasn't much else to say. She had finally won her chance to cut.

"Elizabeth?"

She turned back, halfway up the stairs.

"Be careful. More shallow cuts are better than fewer deep ones."

"I'll be careful, Henry." Her voice was serious. She understood how rattling it was now that she was leaving Henry downstairs to drink. She was trusting him not to get the bottle out of the cabinet, and he was trusting her not to cut too deep.

With that, she disappeared up the stairs.

Henry already felt sick, and he hadn't yet taken a sip. He hated that he knew exactly what Elizabeth was going to do, but he knew that she didn't have a better way to deal with her emotions. Not yet, at least. If she knew of any other way to deal with her emotions that worked, she wouldn't be cutting. He hated allowing her to go off on her own and hurt herself, but he knew in the moment, there was really nothing else for it. When he felt so horrible himself, he couldn't think of any way to make her feel better. He didn't have the energy to help.

There was nothing he could do. Henry, as intelligent and knowledgeable as he was, was completely powerless when it came to Elizabeth's cutting. He didn't really understand why it helped her so much, and he certainly couldn't make her stop. She was so wrapped up with the cutting that she couldn't even focus on what would make her feel better. All she could think about was cutting.

And that made Henry powerless – the one thing he had tried to avoid so much in his life... and yet the one thing he craved from the alcohol. He wanted the alcohol to take control and give him confidence and calm.

Looking down into the amber liquid in his glass, he knew that just like Elizabeth, he would have to learn some better coping skills. Drinking didn't make him happy. He knew it didn't _really_ help, but he didn't have anything else that worked better… None of the coping skills he had developed during his life could handle the stress of having a knife held to his throat… Or his sister telling him that their father was dead because of him...

Downing his drink in one, Henry mused that at least he didn't have to watch Elizabeth hurt herself, and he didn't have to let her see him drink. He didn't think he could ever hold himself back if he saw her hurting herself. And it would simply be too embarrassing to let Elizabeth watch him drink. Getting drunk was the one time he completely let himself go and didn't worry about what he looked like or sounded like – the only time he let his guard down. If Elizabeth saw him like that, she'd know exactly how tenuous his control was. He was barely making it through. Even simple things like keeping his cool during work… some days were just hard, but it wasn't acceptable to cry in his office or need to take a break during a critical meeting. He had a job to do, and his weaknesses couldn't stand in the way.

But weakness had to come out at some point. Henry felt the telltale relaxation of his muscles as the alcohol hit his system. It was subtle, but it was there. That first wave was what he really craved. Each subsequent drink never quite gave him the feeling of that initial relief… Not that that stopped him…

* * *

Elizabeth closed the door to her bathroom and sunk down against it. She wanted to cut, and she would… but somehow she was still upset. Now that she was finally able to cut, it almost didn't seem as good as she thought it would be. She sighed. It was all so confusing.

Getting out her blades and disinfectant, she tried to figure out what was bothering her so much. Was it just that Henry was still in the house while she was cutting? Was it that he knew she was cutting? Theoretically, he always knew she was cutting. Just like she knew he still drank. Sure, they didn't know all the details, but it shouldn't seem like a big change. They both knew it was an ongoing situation. That wasn't a secret.

After she made the first cut, she breathed a sigh. She felt the instant wave of gentle euphoria singing through her nervous system. Something about it made her tilt her head back and gasp at the blessed relief. It felt like _something_ , which was a welcome respite from the ever-tightening stress that had been numbing her body with tension. When her muscles all relaxed at the pain, she let out a sigh, luxuriating in the feeling of bliss. The endorphins in her system and the sight of blood gave her mind something to focus on. It was so odd, cutting, she thought. She always had this slight panic at the sight of her own blood leaving her body. That was probably an evolutionary thing, she guessed. But somehow, that much more immediate panic managed to cover up the other anxieties she felt. She couldn't give half a shit about anything when her brain thought it was a victory to stay alive. Cutting was the only thing that made her feel truly alive.

Elizabeth kept cutting, keeping her strokes light. If she were honest with herself, the real high from each cut only lasted a couple minutes, especially with these really shallow cuts. Blood barely filled each scratch, and it didn't drip at all. She knew these shallow cuts were what Henry had asked her to hold herself to, but it wasn't enough. There wasn't enough sensation. There wasn't enough blood to release the pain she felt inside.

Could she cut deeper? She wanted to, for sure. But Henry wouldn't be happy. They had an agreement. But what would Henry care, really? He had picked his alcohol over her. He obviously cared more about his own buzz. On some level, he was condoning Elizabeth's cutting, so how mad could he get if she cut deeper? He probably didn't care, anyway. If he really cared, he would never have let her cut.

It did bother her, though, that she always seemed to move the goal post. When she started cutting, any intentions she had before taking out the blade were thrown out the window. She might intend to make three shallow cuts, but she'd end up with a dozen. Or she'd intend to make several scratches and end up with a few gashes that probably should have gotten stitches...

It wasn't that the cutting was out of control, exactly... It just always went further than she intended it to, and that scared her. Still, it wasn't like the cuts, even deeper than intended, were medically dangerous. At least not recently. And if they weren't medically dangerous, Elizabeth couldn't think of any real reason to stop… What did she really want? Did she really want to cut more? Was she just holding herself back for Henry?

She sat on the bathroom floor and tried to picture exactly what she wanted – what would make her feel better. Instead of more cuts, the image that came to mind was more of a warm feeling. She could imagine being held and rocked in strong arms. She imagined wrapping her own arms around a neck and burying her face away from the world. What was so enticing about the idea was the love in every touch and caress. She wanted someone to cradle the back of her head in their hand. She wanted someone to cup her cheek and press a kiss to her lips. If just anyone tried to touch her like that, she would have slapped them in the face... But when she thought about it with the _right person,_ it all seemed so natural and... _correct._

She wanted to feel the sensation of Henry gently holding her. The cutting helped some, but it wasn't what she was really craving – though it was much easier to say that now she had been able to cut some to take the edge off.

Elizabeth stood up decisively, dropping her used blade into the trash and wiping off the drops of blood gathered in her cuts. They had bled more than she first noticed, but they were still pretty shallow. At least she wouldn't have to explain to Henry that she had cut too deep.

The cutting had helped numb her to the awkwardness and embarrassment that she would have otherwise felt about going to Henry with open cuts. Since they were so fresh, she just couldn't bring herself to care what he might think. She pulled her sleeves down over the injuries and proceeded downstairs.

Henry looked relaxed, but not drunk. She knew he wouldn't have gotten drunk off those few ounces of liquor she had poured for him. And what did it matter if he had a couple drinks? She knew it wasn't good, but a couple drinks wouldn't hurt, really... She couldn't bring herself to get worked up. She knew it was a side effect of the cutting, and in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that only minutes before, she had been mentally accusing Henry of not caring about her cutting, and here she was not caring about his drinking. That was one thing she didn't like about cutting – that it numbed everything… There were some things she still wanted to feel, but cutting was an all or nothing deal.

"Elizabeth!"

Henry's call shook her from her thoughts, and she let herself sink into his lap like a sack of potatoes. It may not have been the most elegant move, but she knew what she wanted.

Henry held her to him fiercely. Now that he felt like he could breathe again, he wanted Elizabeth safe in his arms instead of upstairs cutting. He needed tangible proof that she was okay.

Cuddling was just the balm they each needed to soothe their nerves. They were there. They were together. They were going to make it.

Henry fought his way through the slight haze of pleasure he was feeling. He had enough booze in his system to relax him and take his mind off his work, and he had his favorite beautiful woman in his lap, holding onto him with all the love she had. But there was something wrong. Elizabeth was clutching onto him too tightly. She needed help... and so did he. In this moment, the last thing he needed to be was intoxicated. He needed to coach her through this and make sure she was okay. He needed to show her that he could be there for her. He wasn't drunk enough that he didn't feel guilty for not helping her, and the alcohol in his system gave him the confidence to at least try to be the boyfriend she needed.

Henry matched Elizabeth's tightening grip. She had cut, and now he needed to make sure that she hadn't done herself a life-threatening injury. All of her cuts were serious, and when he thought about it, they all had the potential to threaten her life. It wouldn't take much for her hand to slip one of these days and nick a vein. But she had promised to keep the cuts shallow, so maybe they'd be safe for the night.

"Elizabeth? Can I see?"

She heard Henry's gravelly voice murmuring in her ear. It was almost comforting, his quiet tone. Feeling somewhat soothed by his strong arms around her, she nodded. Henry allowed her to extricate her arm from his embrace, and she began pulling her sleeve back to reveal the fresh cuts on her forearm.

Henry vaguely wondered how she had found space among all of the scars on her arm to make new cuts. Once his mind registered what he was seeing, though, he felt a small wave of panic engulf him. When he was so focused on needing a drink, he had thought that he would be okay with Elizabeth cutting. It was an exchange of sorts, after all. But seeing her fresh cuts, he felt an instinctive revulsion at the sight. _This is not okay. She can't keep doing this forever._

Swallowing down his more irrational fears, Henry focused on the woman in front of him. She was more than the cuts on her arms that were still slowly leaking blood. Her cuts weren't his primary worry. He could bandage those up quickly. That she thought so little of herself that she could think she deserved to be in pain... That was the real problem, and one Henry would have a much harder time trying to remedy.

"These are pretty shallow. Good job, babe." He kissed her cheek gently, on some level thanking her for restraining herself from cutting more.

Elizabeth sniffed, looking away. She didn't deserve his compliment. She wanted, more than anything, to let Henry high five her on her little victory – even if her only victory was keeping her cuts shallow – but she couldn't. It had been so close. She had wanted to cut more. There was no victory when it got that close. She didn't deserve his compliment.

"What is it?"

"I nearly cut more..." She wasn't sure if she should continue. She'd probably scare him away. She never got to share these things, though, and she just wanted to say out loud that she didn't want to make shallow cuts. She wanted gashes open and gaping so someone would finally understand the ridiculous demands placed on her. So someone would finally understand that it was all too hard, and she was tired of putting up with everything. "I wanted to cut deeper. These didn't hurt hardly at all."

"But you didn't," Henry insisted, almost shortly. He was just numb enough from the alcohol to ignore his own day, but he wasn't immune from all irritation. If he were honest, he was also getting the tiniest bit annoyed with Elizabeth not letting him comfort her. He wanted to make her feel better, but she was trying to make everything sound worse.

"But I wanted to, Henry... " She started crying in frustration. Henry didn't understand that she scared herself. It scared her how much she wanted to hurt herself.

"I know. But you're safe. I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen." He forced himself to stay calm. This was the woman he loved, and he knew she had been through more than anyone ever should. Of course, she was a little difficult. He still loved her.

"You can't stop me from hurting myself," she argued, almost angrily.

Henry didn't let her anger deter him, his confidence bolstered by his drink, but he chose his words carefully. "No... I can't... But I can help you sit with all that pain you've got that makes you want to cut."

Elizabeth paused for a moment. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? She relaxed her shoulders and let Henry hold her again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Let's get those cleaned up, alright?" He gestured to her cuts. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"Upstairs. Under the sink."

"I'll be right back, babe. You okay?"

She nodded, staring down at her arm. She was still staring when Henry came back and began to wipe down her now clotted over cuts. The disinfectant stung, but Elizabeth liked it. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Henry had her wrist wrapped in white gauze.

Henry knew that while he could bandage her cuts, he didn't have a quick fix to make her stop wanting to cut. He couldn't really be upset with her, either, at least not until he had his drinking under control. They both had some hard work to do to get better. He just wished he could put in words how he felt... He wanted her to know how much he disliked it when she herself. He hated that she constantly felt like hurting herself. He hated that cutting was so dangerous. He hated that she didn't have the support system she needed. He hated that she was so tired of fighting her internal battles. He hated that she had internal battles to fight. He hated that she had to pretend she was okay all the while getting beaten down even more every day at work.

But mostly, he loved her more than he could say, and he wished he could spend all day every day showing her how much he loved her. He wanted her to understand how much the cutting could hurt her, but he knew any conversation like that would drive her away, so he held her close, protecting her injured arm with his own body. He hoped she could feel how much he cared for her.

"I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you, too. Thank you for patching me up..." Elizabeth couldn't really think of anything more symbolic than Henry helping her clean her cuts. Even when she messed up and everything was too much to take, he was there to help her. He wasn't mad at her, but he wanted her to be safe.

"I will always bandage you up if you'll let me. I'm happy to do it."

Elizabeth had no idea what to say to that, and she didn't really have the energy to argue anymore. She let her head rest back against Henry and closed her eyes.

It took a while, but Henry felt Elizabeth relax eventually. It was getting very late at night. They had heard the clock chime one in the morning a while ago, and they both needed to be at work early.

"You think you could sleep, baby?" Henry asked.

Elizabeth only nodded, thoroughly drained.

Henry kissed her temple and stood up with her still in his arms. He slowly ascended the stairs, careful not to bump her against anything. He settled her in bed and draped the blankets over her thin shoulders.

"How you doing, baby?"

Elizabeth tried to relax into the bed, but the sheets were cold and rough against her over-sensitized skin, and she was nervous about allowing herself to sink into dreams, where she couldn't control what happened.

"I still want to cut..." she muttered, mostly to herself.

Henry held back a sigh. They had both had a hard day, and there really wasn't any sugar coating it. He reminded himself that more often than not, she had some level of desire to cut - if his cravings for alcohol were similar to her urges to cut. It wasn't something that just went away completely.

"Would you let me give you a back massage? That might help..."

She nodded, "You aren't mad at me?"

"Mad at you for what?" Henry started running his hands along her spine, where he could feel her muscles spasm at his touch. He knew she was carrying a lot of tension.

"For still wanting to cut..."

"No, baby. I'm not mad. When you're upset and stressed, you want to cut. I still want to drink; are you mad at me for that?"

"No... I'm sorry you feel bad, and I want to help..."

"I know you do. I want to help, too, babe."

"Just you being here is helpful," she said honestly.

"I can stay if that would make you feel better," Henry offered, partly because he thought staying with his girlfriend would help him more than her. It would make him feel like they had made some progress in their relationship if they could sleep in the same room.

"No!" She nearly panicked, sitting up abruptly. "I mean… Henry… Not tonight. I'm sorry." _I can't do this now. And now he probably thinks I hate him…_

Several thoughts warred with each other in Henry's head. _Why won't you let me stay? Why are you apologizing for saying what you want? Soon, you're going to have to tell me what this is all about…_

"It's okay. Shhh…. Don't feel bad," he soothed

Elizabeth took a deep breath, forcing the anxiety back down. She really was tired, and she just wanted to fall asleep so she wouldn't have to live through any more of her day. What she was so worried about, though, was waking up in the middle of the night and smelling Henry. When she was awake, he wasn't scary... but in the middle of the night, if she woke up to him still smelling of alcohol... She just couldn't do it. She'd risk being scared and cutting too much. Then she wouldn't be able to go to work, and the house of cards that was her life would come tumbling down.

Henry was at his wits' end. He knew Elizabeth wouldn't tell him what had bothered her, but he also knew he was the one who had scared her. Sure, he hadn't been acting unreasonably, but he should have read the situation better. If he hadn't been still a little buzzed from the booze, he might have done better. Now, he had the worst of everything. He wasn't drunk enough to sleep, and he was too buzzed to really help Elizabeth. A plan started forming in his mind – one that he would never have accepted so quickly if he had been sober – and he calmed himself.

"I love you, Elizabeth. It's okay. Just get some sleep. Sleep will help." He kissed her, helping her lie back down, and stood up, clearly preparing to leave.

Elizabeth nodded, "Thank you, Henry." As much as she loved Henry, she was exhausted and ready to sleep. She felt terrible, and there wasn't anything that could fix it. She just wanted to sleep. She didn't even want to look at the clock and see how few hours she would be able to get…

"I'm here if you need anything, babe." He closed her door gently. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he knew there wasn't anything he could do to completely take her pain away. No matter how much he wanted to help, she would always have her own experiences to live with, and some of those were clearly very troubling to her. Henry couldn't change the past. At some point, he'd have to come to terms with the fact that she would always carry around a history of pain...

Elizabeth was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. Henry had come to terms with that already... but it was something different when he was faced with the tangibles of Elizabeth still being addicted to cutting herself. It was so much harder to accept when he had to stare it in the face. Still, Henry knew it would only hurt Elizabeth if he tried to boss her around and tell her to stop. Elizabeth trusted him to allow her to be herself. Trying to control her would be a horrible way to repay that trust. Her spirit was strong and independent. He knew the only thing to do was to support her as she worked through things when she was ready.

His mind was all over the place as he entered his bedroom, looking around at the simple decorations. He saw the bed in the corner, and his body told him to sink into the soft quilt and not get up until morning. The bed looked so inviting. Elizabeth had prepared the room in case guests stayed over, and it looked nice, but there were no pictures or other personal items. The walls were blank white, and there was nothing on top of the dresser. The only thing worth noting in the room was his suitcase that hadn't yet been put away. It didn't help the sense of isolation he felt.

He couldn't fix anything at work. He couldn't make Elizabeth feel better. He couldn't keep himself from drinking, and here he was sitting in a blank room. There was nothing to ground him – nothing holding him together. He wanted pictures on the walls of family and friends... but that would require being close with family and friends. No – he didn't really have a social circle outside of work. That was why it was so disastrous when work sucked.

But the next day would be a new chance to try again. If only he could get to sleep to prepare for it. The alcohol in his system hadn't really been enough to begin with, and that had been a while ago. If he wanted to go to sleep, he needed more. Just a little.

As he dug in his still unopened suitcases to pull out the bottle of whiskey, Henry cringed a little to himself. It certainly wasn't desirable, but in his mind, it was necessary. Just a few shots to get him to sleep... There just wasn't time to do anything else. He had to be an adult and get his work done, and the only way to do that would be to get some sleep…. And the only way to do that would be to drink.

* * *

The next morning at work, Elizabeth was trying to clean the easy stuff out of her email inbox. Policy questions got forwarded to the research team, scheduling questions got forwarded to Blake, security questions from DS got forwarded to Nadine. It was all pretty mind-numbing, but Elizabeth didn't mind. It was simple. The only problem was every time she moved a certain way and rested her arm on her desk, she could feel the fabric of her shirt pulling against her fresh cuts from that morning when she hadn't wanted to get up and go to work. It hurt a little bit, and it itched like hell.

It was distracting. In some ways that was nice. She liked thinking about cutting. It kept her mind off of the stress and the reasons she wanted to cut. But it broke her little fantasy that her cutting didn't affect her at work. It did. Of course, it did. She just wished it were on her terms. The itching was annoying. She'd rather have it hurt outright than be sensitive and itchy.

She snorted to herself. She was mad that her cuts were neither actively painful to the point that she could deal with them, but they weren't gone, either. Just like all of her problems...there wasn't really anything she could do to fix them because they weren't really open and obvious, but still they weren't gone. They were just _there_ and _annoying._

Although… the specter of Iraq was starting to move from annoying to actively causing issues. Annoying was when she thought about it every time she was alone with a man. Truly troublesome was when it stopped her from letting Henry hold her when she really needed him.

Elizabeth was more than usually persistent. She did what she wanted to do. If she wanted to do something, she made it happen. That was why she was cutting, after all. She wanted to keep going after everything, so she found a way. But she couldn't allow her own head to keep her from sleeping with Henry when she wanted to.

 _Or sleeping at all,_ she thought as her head bobbed for the fifth time in the last hour.

* * *

A/N: Well there's the thing, y'all. Sorry for the delays. This chapter took a lot of agonizing.

I want your opinion on how I should write things in the future. I've tried so far to write things out in plenty of detail without being hopelessly repetitive. Do you like having everything about their thought processes stated explicitly? Or would you like more left up to interpretation?

Thank you all for the reviews. They make this writing process better, and they make me happy :)

The next chapter might also take a while. I've started it, but the thing I haven't started is the batch of final papers I need to write this semester...

I spent this past weekend at a blind people convention, and I came out as a scholarship winner (yay free money). I'd never been around so many other blind people. It was kinda overwhelming. It's good to be back home, and I'm sure my poor guide dog is happy she's no longer getting constantly hit in the head with white canes... lol.

Send more good vibes for the job situation. I've got a couple applications moving forward.


	29. We're gonna have to step outside

Chapter 28: We're gonna have to step outside if you mess with my girl

* * *

Nadine sat in her office on Wednesday going through all of the business she hadn't attended to since the weapons had gone missing. The issue seemed to have sucked up all of her time for the past two days. Things had finally settled down now, even if there weren't any resolution. Everyone had been chastised appropriately, and all leads were being looked into. They were on it, though there still weren't many answers.

One of Nadine's least favorite tasks was approving the secretary's calendar. There was so little time, and there were so many things that needed to be done. Blake did all of the Tetris of making things fit on the calendar, but Nadine had to approve it on a policy and personal level. Nadine's job was to make sure that none of the secretary's meetings would anger the wrong people, and her second concern was timing meetings with important figures so that her boss wouldn't be too tired to handle the meeting.

Nadine knew her boss couldn't handle difficult meetings back to back without a break. Secretary Adams liked to have a few breaks throughout the day. Nadine had a suspicion she knew what was happening during those breaks, but she had no proof. Nothing really out of the ordinary had happened in the last couple weeks. If anything, things seemed to have settled down a bit for the secretary, missing weapons aside.

Coming up the next week, it looked like DS wanted to meet with both Secretary Adams and Henry McCord. Nadine had to double-check that because it seemed out of the ordinary, but she found an email about it in her inbox. DS wanted a meeting to discuss the status of the secretary and Dr. McCord's relationship.

 _The status of their relationship. What would security care about the status of their relationship?_

Nadine was uncomfortable. Did DS have a security concern about Henry dating the secretary?

Something suddenly occurred to her. What if Henry was hurting Elizabeth? What if that was why she was so unpredictable? What if she wore long sleeves so much because she had bruises?

If her boyfriend were beating her, Nadine knew she would be just as out of sorts as Elizabeth sometimes was… it all made some sense. It was at least a possibility.

…a possibility that needed to be brought to DS's attention. If DS was already worried about it, Nadine could only help by passing along the things she knew.

She picked up her phone and asked to be connected to Frank, the head of Elizabeth's detail. She heard a few rings and then the familiar deep voice.

"Ms. Tolliver, what can I do for you?"

"I saw you're requesting a meeting with the secretary and Dr. McCord."

"Yes, that's correct."

"I'll get the meeting on her calendar next week, but in the meantime I wanted to mention a couple things I've noticed…"

"What's that, ma'am?" Frank asked.

"Well, I saw the topic of the meeting, and it occurred to me that some of the odd things the secretary does might be explained by a difficult or... abusive... relationship. Secretary Adams can be very unpredictable, prone to mood swings... One minute she's very stressed, and then a few minutes later she's completely apathetic. She also has taken to wearing very conservative clothing, and it makes me think she might be hiding bruises or other injuries."

Nadine huffed slightly. It seemed at the same time better and worse when it was all laid out on the table like that. She couldn't communicate how unnerving it felt to see the secretary nearly yell at her staff one minute and then fifteen minutes later act like nothing in the world mattered. But saying everything in a few sentences like that... there was so much room for other explanations. Everyone had mood swings sometimes. And clothing choices certainly weren't criminal.

Frank knew exactly what was behind all of that, but he couldn't share any of his protectee's personal information.

"Thank you for those concerns, ma'am. I will take those into consideration."

Nadine didn't know what to say. Had she not been clear? Was she overreacting? Why wasn't Frank taking her seriously?

"I really think something is going on… she's been like that since right around the time they started dating…"

"I appreciate your concern, ma'am."

"Do you hear what I'm saying? This is a big deal. If the Secretary of State is being abused, we need to do something."

Frank knew he had to diffuse the situation. "Ma'am, our authority does not allow us to intervene in personal matters. If we witness any harm coming to the secretary, we will stop it. Or if she asks for us to intervene... but we're not there to break up domestic disputes. We're just the bodyguards... We aren't here to tell the secretary what she can and can't do in her own home."

There was a silence as Nadine let that sink in. Even the Secretary of State didn't have an easy way out of a bad relationship...

Her voice dropped low. "I understand. Thanks..."

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help. Is there anything else I can do, ma'am?" Frank asked.

"Can you tell me why you need to know about the status of their relationship?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Of course. Thank you, Frank."

"Have a good day, ma'am."

Sitting back in her chair, Nadine tried to figure out what her next move should be. Clearly, DS wanted her to drop it. It really wasn't any of her business...but didn't she owe it to the sisterhood to make sure Elizabeth was okay? Heaven knew she had been in enough bad relationships to know that getting out wasn't the easiest thing to do. Sometimes you needed backup.

It occurred to Nadine that maybe the secretary... Elizabeth... maybe she needed someone to listen to her. They kept a strict professional atmosphere in the office. But working the kind of hours they did, it was impossible for some personal stuff not to come up.

Maybe Nadine didn't want to be best friends with her boss, but she could at least listen if Elizabeth ever needed someone to talk to. Elizabeth could be frustrating with her wild ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she was still a person. And if her boyfriend were hurting her, Nadine wanted to try to help. Nadine knew, perhaps better than anyone, that sometimes women had to stick together.

The least Nadine could do was be there.

* * *

"Madam Secretary? Can I have a minute?" Nadine walked into Elizabeth's office, a little unsure of herself. It was still quite early in the morning, and sometimes it took the secretary a while to settle in. She always seemed to need her coffee and pastries before any real work could happen.

"Sure, Nadine. What's up?" Elizabeth asked over a pile of negotiations she was reviewing. It wasn't anything stressful, just the arrangements for a glorified photo-op and extension of goodwill.

"I wanted to ask you..." Nadine was stuck and she didn't know how to proceed. "Um..." Inspiration struck her. "We've got that state dinner coming up for the president of Chile. Are you going to invite Henry as your plus one?"

"I'll check with him and see what he thinks," Elizabeth said, rather dismissively.

Nadine plowed ahead. "You and he seem to be spending more time together. Any news I should know about?"

Elizabeth regarded her chief of staff coldly. "No. I don't think so. That's personal."

"Is there anything wrong? I'm here if you need to talk about-..."

"Everything is fine. There's nothing to talk about. That's how gossip gets started, and I'd rather not have my life paraded about as office gossip."

"Ma'am, I was just trying to make sure you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Elizabeth demanded.

Nadine could tell her boss was done being pushed, and she backtracked quickly. "No reason, ma'am. My apologies. I was wrong to presume."

"Yes, you were. I trust in future you won't allow personal matters to get in the way of your work. You can go now." Elizabeth shifted her gaze back down to her papers.

Nadine left for the solace of her own office. She was firmly convinced of two things. Something was definitely bothering the secretary, and Elizabeth was desperate to keep it private.

Back in her office, Nadine picked up the phone and checked her computer for the right number. Again, the phone rang, but this time a female voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Isabelle, this is Nadine Tolliver, Secretary Adams's chief of staff."

"Nadine, yes. I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"I have some… concerns… I'd like to discuss with you."

"I see." Isabelle paused, "Concerns about…?"

"Concerns about the secretary," Nadine clarified.

"Right." On some level, Isabelle had been waiting for another sign that Elizabeth wasn't okay. The woman needed help, and she wouldn't get better until she decided she was ready to make an effort to stop cutting. "Well, let's get lunch soon. I think this will be a longer conversation."

Nadine checked her watch. "I'll be free in an hour and a half if you are."

Isabelle flicked her eyes through her datebook and said, "I can do that. I'll meet you at the GW deli?"

"Sounds good. See you then."

* * *

"Nadine, good to see you again," Isabelle shook hands with her friend's chief of staff.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."

"No problem. I was in the neighborhood anyway."

"Right, well…" Nadine didn't want to ask what had brought a CIA agent to the neighborhood.

"You said you had some concerns?" Isabelle prompted.

"Yes. I'm concerned about the secretary…"

"You've noticed something?"

"I have. In general, I've noticed some rather emotional behavior, and she tends to wear very conservative clothing. I'm concerned she might have injuries she's hiding… and I'm a little concerned about her relationship with Henry McCord. I want to make sure she doesn't need help. When I ask her about it, she gets very defensive."

Isabelle paused. Nadine had said more than she knew. Elizabeth did need help. But one thing Nadine had mentioned caught Isabelle's attention. Elizabeth had assured her that Henry was treating her well, but was that truly the case? Isabelle made a mental note to check in with Henry soon.

Nadine could tell there was something there. Isabelle was thinking. If she hadn't seen anything, she would have asked questions.

"Isabelle?"

The spy realized she had lapsed into thought too long. She wasn't focusing on the problem in front of her. Isabelle needed to get information out of Nadine, but she couldn't give up anything. Elizabeth trusted her for her discretion. If Elizabeth hadn't told Nadine, it wasn't Isabelle's place to divulge anything.

"I'm sorry. Have you seen anything else? When did this all start?"

"It's been going on for really quite a while now. I can't remember exactly. I remember the secretary had a lot of trouble after Iran, but I thought she had sorted that out. I think I started noticing it more after she started dating Dr. McCord."

"You think he's mistreating her?" Isabelle asked.

"I wouldn't say that, really. He brings her lunch a lot, and she always seems happy, relieved even, to see him. But there's something going on there that's making her rather… unpredictable. I go in in the morning, and she's focused, but then I see her an hour later, and she seems completely detached. I don't think Henry's necessarily the cause, but he must have noticed something at the least…"

"I haven't spent much time with Henry, but I don't have any real reasons to doubt him." Isabelle tried to set the woman across form her at ease. She could tell Nadine was only worried about Elizabeth. "Elizabeth has assured me that Henry is treating her well. If you see something about him that concerns you, I will certainly bring it up to her. And I may meet up with Henry and put the fear of God into him... just so we're all clear on what the repercussions would be of messing with Elizabeth..."

Nadine grinned at the thought of Isabelle giving Henry 'the talk.' She knew exactly who would come out on top of that conversation, and it wouldn't be the Marine. Sobering slightly, she said, "I just want to make sure he's not hurting her."

"What have you seen that would suggest he is?" Isabelle was very concerned now, her voice rather commanding.

"She wears long pants and long sleeves even when it's 100 degrees outside. Sometimes she says she's worried about sunburns, but she never used to be so worried. Of course, there could be other reasons for someone to wear long sleeves, but she works with the designers a lot more than she used to."

Isabelle raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We use a stylist for the more high-profile functions, and the secretary used to take whatever dress was handed to her first. She wasn't very interested. Now, though, she haggles back and forth with the stylists about she wants long sleeves and floor length dresses, even for cocktail attire functions. They've had a time finding her appropriate dresses sometimes. She just refuses to wear short dresses, but sometimes a suit or long dress just isn't appropriate."

"I see." Isabelle hadn't thought about what a hard time Elizabeth must be having in hiding her cuts. Even if the cutting were getting better, there were still the scars to deal with. The nation probably wasn't ready to look at women's pain displayed publicly.

Nadine continued, "I've known women before who did that to cover up bruises and that sort of thing."

Isabelle breathed. "I don't think that's what's happening, but do let me know if you see anything else concerning. I'll reach out and make sure they're both okay." In fact, Isabelle thought that Henry had been helping. Elizabeth seemed more willing to talk to her. At least she had been answering more texts recently. She still wasn't really opening up, but at least she wasn't isolating herself.

"Thank you." Nadine smiled and then glanced at her watch. She had a lot of work to get back to, but this had seemed important. On one level, she didn't think she had really accomplished anything more than gossiping... It certainly wasn't her job to get into her boss's business, as she had been reminded only a couple of hours ago...

As if Isabelle read her mind, Nadine heard, "You did the right thing by telling me. We have to stick together. Don't worry. I'm keeping an eye on Elizabeth. She and I go way back."

Nadine knew Isabelle had Elizabeth's best interests at heart. "Thanks. We should get lunch again sometime."

"Of course. Anytime there isn't an international crisis." Isabelle winked.

"Understood."

They shared a smile. The culture of government work wasn't exactly conducive to maintaining personal relationships.

Nadine knew that Isabelle hadn't really said anything that DS hadn't, but she felt so much better after her conversation with Isabelle than she had after talking to DS. Isabelle had at least listened to her. Sometimes having someone there to listen was the most helpful thing. It had been stressful to think about the secretary being hurt, especially if Nadine had information about it. But talking it over with Isabelle had made Nadine feel less alone. Someone else was looking out, and it wasn't only her responsibility anymore.

* * *

Getting back to the State Department, Nadine called Blake into her office.

"Blake, please have a seat," she said as she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

She watched Blake sit on the edge of his chair, pen at the ready to take down notes. He really deserved a raise...

"Listen," she glanced out the window, "this is something off the books."

She could almost see his head cock to the side like a confused puppy.

"I want you to keep an eye out for me. If you notice that the secretary has any injuries, I'd like you to come tell me privately." She met Blake's eyes with a steady gaze.

"What kind of injuries?"

"Scrapes, bruises, anything like that."

"Of course, ma'am." His tone was questioning.

"I just want you to be on the lookout."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think something's wrong?"

"Not necessarily, but if it is, I don't want us to miss it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, Blake. Please close the door on your way out."

Once she heard the door click, Nadine still had another phone call to make to convince herself she had done her due diligence.

The voice on the other end of the call answered, "This is Stamford."

"Mike, this is Nadine."

"Nadine! How are you doing?"

"Just fine, Mike. How are you?"

"Can't complain. Can't complain. Now what can I do for you?"

"I wonder what you can tell me about Henry McCord..."

"Henry? What do you mean? Do you need me to verify his security clearance?"

"No. I mean can you tell me a little about his background?"

"I guess..."

Nadine could tell Mike was confused, but she let him continue, hoping he'd give her more information since he didn't know what she was looking for. People usually did that - if they didn't understand the question, they'd start babbling everything they knew about the topic.

"He's the best expert I've got on Islamist extremism. He speaks like six languages, but half of them are dead languages... He knows the military back to front, and he's really got a knack for briefing folks."

Nadine could tell Stamford wouldn't fall for her little ploy, so she gave him another prompt. "Do you know what all he did before working at DIA?"

"He enlisted in ROTC in high school, flew planes for a while, got his fancy degree in religion, and then started working in terrorism intel."

"How long have you known him?"

"He did some training with me when he moved over to working on intel. So..." Mike paused while he counted, "Roughly twenty years."

"What do you think of him as a person?"

"As a person? You trying to hire him over at State?"

"I'm not pulling a reference on him. I just want to get your opinion on him. I've got some concerns about him dating the secretary."

"I highly recommend him. But that's about all I can say. You know I can't tell you a lot of background on my intel folks. I don't even know half of what he's done, and I couldn't tell you if I did. As far as him dating the secretary, that's his business. I don't know anything about that."

Stamford's voice wasn't harsh, but it was final.

Nadine heard the implicit chastisement for sticking her nose in other people's business. "Thanks, Mike."

"Of course. Have a good day."

"Bye."

Nadine rubbed her eyes. That hadn't gone very well. What had she been expecting? She knew Henry couldn't have a known, serious past of domestic abuse and work in the position he did. It wasn't her business to approve the secretary's choices in dates. The secretary was a big girl, after all, and she could make her own decisions.

Nadine's job wasn't to check up on her boss's every move and approve. She _did_ owe it to the sisterhood to notice anything obvious, but digging into people's private lives was another thing.

Besides, there was plenty of work to do that had nothing to with the secretary's personal life and everything to do with the running of the government.

* * *

"Oh, Henry. What are you doing right now?" Stamford was making his afternoon rounds of the office and noticed Henry looking rather bored.

"Just reading through some background material on the situation in Afghanistan. You got anything you need?"

Stamford glanced at his watch. "No. I'll let you go home early if you do one more thing for me."

Henry mentally jumped at the chance to go home. He'd had an annoying headache all morning – the remnants of his indulgence the previous night, he knew. He hadn't drunk himself into oblivion, but he also hadn't been able to escape without a headache. It had been that way since he had pulled the secret bottle out of his suitcase. A few shots before bed helped to quiet his thoughts before sleep. There was something about preparing for sleep that took his mental barriers down, and things flooded in and overwhelmed him. Unless he drank...

Getting home early would also mean he'd be able to fix Elizabeth a nice dinner. They both deserved it after their frantic week trying to figure out what happened to nearly a warehouse full of weapons.

Stamford wasn't surprised at Henry's look of eagerness to get home, so he continued, "Come out with me for a few minutes. I'll buy the cookies."

Henry regarded his boss warily, though he didn't let it show on his face. They went out for cookies when they needed to complain about something without the rest of the office hearing about it. So this wasn't a professional conversation... Stamford just wanted to talk to him.

There was no tactful way to turn down a free cookie, so Henry smiled and accepted. Before he knew it, he had a warm and gooey chocolate chip cookie in his hand. Stamford was already biting into his own gingersnap cookie.

"So you and Elizabeth?"

 _So that's what he wants to talk about._ "Yeah?"

"How's that going?"

"Pretty well."

"Care to elaborate?" Stamford asked around a bit of cookie.

"I like her a lot..."

Stamford raised an eyebrow. "Just like?"

Henry shrugged. "I love her. But she likes keeping our relationship kinda private." _Much like I do,_ Henry thought. He didn't know where Stamford was going with this line of questioning. He wasn't normally that nosy.

Stamford knew Elizabeth never wanted the limelight. "What are your intentions with her?"

"You're asking me if I'm planning on dumping her?" Henry was a little offended that Stamford thought he needed to ask the question.

"I've known her since she was barely old enough to drink. Don't get mad at me for being protective. That woman is stronger than both of us put together, and I'll personally tear you apart if you ever hurt her." Stamford spoke mildly, matter-of-factly. He wasn't threatening. He was just making sure Henry knew exactly what would happen if any harm came to Elizabeth.

"Well, I'm not going to dump her. If she'll have me, I'm going to marry her. When we're ready, of course. But she's it for me. She's the one."

"Yeah?"

Stamford had a broad grin on his face that Henry couldn't help but notice.

"You know what it's like... I care about her more than anyone I've ever met. Just knowing she's there makes me happy, and she always manages to say the most intelligent thing that gets me thinking. She's brilliant, and she's beautiful, and once you get past that rigid professionalism, she's so earnest and hopeful and honest..." Henry stopped himself. He knew he could talk about how great Elizabeth was for hours. And he knew his favorite part of Elizabeth probably didn't need to be told to anyone else. His favorite part of her was how open she was to him. He knew she had been hurt, but she still let him in, more and more each day. Her willingness to share made him feel accepted and embraced in a way that he had never been by his family.

"I get the picture."

"You thought I might be having her on?" Henry looked at his boss incredulously. Hadn't they known each other long enough that Stamford would know he wasn't like that?

"No. I just wanted to check. You know I'm here if you ever need anything. You two are good together. I want to see you both make a go of this."

Henry bit into his cookie to fill the silence. He wasn't used to talking about personal things with anyone but Elizabeth, and he was still learning how to talk about things with her.

"Oh, Henry." Stamford seemed to remember something. "I've been meaning to ask you for days... I'm trying to start up a racquetball club in the office. You know the new policy is we get three hours a week of physical training time. You used to be pretty good if I remember correctly. You in?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Can't turn down an excuse to get away from the computer."

"Good. I kept forgetting to ask you. You know how the memory just goes when you get older."

"Hey, you have more in your head than any four people I know. It's fine if you forget a few things now and then." Henry nodded at his joke.

"Ha! I like that one! Better than just saying I'm losing it!"

The two men laughed as they stood up. Stamford was heading back to the office, and Henry was more than ready to go home.

* * *

Elizabeth was running as fast as she could, but the faster she ran, the slower she went. The air around her was too heavy. She couldn't breathe properly, and her limbs weren't strong enough to push through the weight around her. It was like running through water... But there was definitely something chasing her. Something awful. She could see bits and pieces of the world around her - just little glimpses here and there. Henry was ahead of her. She caught sight of him every few seconds, but that didn't help her get to him.

Fog started creeping up all around her. She knew if it caught up with her, something bad would happen. It started licking at her heels, and she could feel her body sinking into the numbness of the fog. She couldn't see anything through it. It covered her eyes, and she couldn't see Henry. She called out, but her voice was cut off in the thick mist.

She felt hot tears stream down her cheeks, but Henry was gone. She knew it. The harder she tried to run, the more her body betrayed her. She was going to dissolve into the fog just like Henry had. There was nothing she could do. It made her panic, but her panic only froze her in place. She felt herself being pulled by the fog, as if it had horrible hands wrapped around her ankles. The fog was taking her away and she'd never see Henry again. The fog would never let her go.

Elizabeth woke with a start and threw the covers off herself, jumping up without thinking. She needed Henry. She needed to find him.

She knocked on Henry's door. Her hand was shaking so bad, she could only tap on it. She just hoped Henry would hear her.

"Henry, you awake?" Her voice squeaked.

Henry got up when he heard something outside his door. He was surprised to find Elizabeth trembling, leaning against the wall. She looked completely terrified. He recognized her rapid breathing and quickly guessed she was having a panic attack.

"I'm here, baby. What's wrong?" He held out his arms to her in offering.

Elizabeth rushed into his embrace. "I'm scared. I'm so scared." She couldn't help but look over her shoulder for the fog trying to steal her away.

He held her tightly. "Okay. It's okay. I've got you now. You're safe. I love you."

He took his girlfriend to the bed and had her sit down with him. She kept snuggling more into him, and he found himself pushed back into the headboard, but he didn't mind. He pulled the quilt up to cover Elizabeth, hoping it would stop her shivering.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here." He cooed softly, stroking her hair. "Breathe for me, babe. Let's slow those breaths down." He put a gentle hand on her chest, between her collarbones, and helped her time her breaths.

Once she was calm and relaxing against his chest, he asked, "What scared you so much, babe?"

Elizabeth couldn't voice exactly what had scared her so much. It had been a feeling more than anything. Her body just felt scared. Terrified, even.

"Nightmares," she whispered. She hid her face in Henry's shoulder, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

Henry soothed her, "Shhh... It's okay. You're safe here with me. I won't let any nightmares hurt you. Can you tell me about what was in your nightmare?" He rubbed his hand on her back, trying to get her to unclench all the muscles she was tensing.

"There was this fog... I was running... And you disappeared in the fog. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't run fast enough."

Holding her closer, Henry murmured softly, but intensely, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. It was just a nightmare."

Henry could feel Elizabeth's breathing even out. She was clearly exhausted from her panic attack, leaning against him bonelessly. He held her like that for a few minutes, knowing she needed her rest. He didn't want her to wake up and be surprised at being in his room. He had pushed her before, and it never worked. They needed to take these things slowly.

He picked up his girlfriend, careful not to jostle her too much. He felt her shift slightly, and he whispered soothingly into her ear, "I'm taking you back to bed, baby. I don't want you to wake up and not know where you are. You're safe. Go back to sleep. I've got you."

Henry took her back to her own room. He maneuvered her into bed and tucked the covers around her.

Elizabeth was surprised. She hadn't been meaning to fake being asleep. She just hadn't been thinking about it. A few more minutes, and she probably would have actually been asleep. It was sweet that Henry was so thoughtful. He took her seriously, and he wasn't going to push her just because she was vulnerable. He was just looking out for her... That was nice...

And she was so tired... And she was safe with Henry in the next room. He's be there if anything happened... That was good...

She snuggled into her pillow and smiled as she fell asleep. She really did love Henry.

* * *

A/N: I still haven't started my final papers, lol. But I did go off the deep end of research on counselling psychology and totally revamped the later parts of the fic... So...?

*Shamelessly begs for reviews*

As always, please let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, if there's anything you'd like to see...

Also, let me know if you picked up on anything in this chapter ;)


	30. Lost and looking for home

Chapter 29: Lost and looking for home

This chapter made possible by significant help from morethanwords.

* * *

"Henry, thanks for getting lunch with me." Isabelle smiled slightly as they sat across from each other in a deserted park with their sandwiches from a deli around the block. She wanted to put Henry at ease. She didn't want to grill him exactly, but she definitely had some questions after talking with Nadine. Once Henry convinced her he wasn't hurting Elizabeth, they could be friendly. Until then, Isabelle knew how to get answers out of people…

"Oh, I had a choice?" Henry raised an eyebrow. Isabelle seemed nice enough, but she was certainly a strong personality, and she hadn't so much as asked him to lunch as informed him they were having lunch.

"Well, no. Not really," Isabelle admitted openly.

"That's what I thought," Henry laughed. He thought it was funny how protective Isabelle was of Elizabeth. He was glad Elizabeth had such a good friend.

"Anyway, I wanted to check in with you and Elizabeth. I haven't seen her much. Are you two doing better?"

Isabelle kept her words intentionally vague, letting Henry interpret her question.

Henry sighed. Isabelle certainly didn't beat around the bush. He knew the question she was really asking. He gave her a knowing look. If he didn't already know that Isabelle was trustworthy and that she was only looking out for his girlfriend, he wouldn't have let himself be coached into talking. Having Isabelle help look after Elizabeth would be helpful. Under other circumstances, Henry probably wouldn't have given out private information without specific permission, but this was about Elizabeth's health, and he'd do whatever would help keep her safe.

"She hasn't cut deep enough to need stitches, at least. The cutting is still going on..." Henry drifted off, thinking of their nightly routine of Elizabeth pouring his drinks and him bandaging her cuts. Isabelle didn't have to know about the drinks...

"I figured as much." Isabelle sighed. It was what she had been expecting, but it still mad her sad and a little bit scared for her friend.

"You okay?" Henry asked, seeing Isabelle look tired at the news that Elizabeth was still cutting.

"I'm fine. I'm just worried about her, about you both, really."

Henry started to say something defensive. What reason did Isabelle have to be worried about him? But before he had a chance, she was continuing.

"I mean, trying to take care of someone with a problem like that is taxing."

Isabelle had seen the little glimmer of annoyance in Henry's eyes. She knew he'd get upset if she brought up his drinking. He'd be upset just knowing she knew about his drinking. He reminded her of someone she had seen not too long ago. She could tell he was hurting, but he was doing the best he could to keep himself together. He certainly had seemed genuinely upset that Elizabeth was still cutting. Isabelle was good at reading people, and Henry didn't give off any vibes that he was overbearing, unhinged, or unfeeling. He didn't fit the profile of an abuser. That didn't make it impossible, but it was at least less likely.

Isabelle felt her mind settle a little. Nadine had worried her a little with the idea that Henry could be hurting Elizabeth, but Nadine didn't know about the cutting. Nadine hadn't had any more evidence that Henry was hurting her besides long sleeves and emotional behavior, and Isabelle knew what was behind those. Her interactions with Henry didn't give her any reason to doubt him.

The only worry that she had about Henry and Elizabeth was that they wouldn't be able to get better… Some people just never got better, and Isabelle knew that only too well.

There was a suspicious sheen in Isabelle's eyes that did not go unnoticed by Henry.

"I'll not deny that." He paused a second, still looking at Isabelle. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah." Isabelle hadn't thought talking to Henry would be difficult, but it was all the same. "I'm sorry. I've been doing some more research on cutting, and it's really dangerous, what she's doing."

"You sure there isn't something else?"

Isabelle took a breath to give herself courage. Telling Henry wouldn't hurt anything, and it might help her to talk about it.

"I had this friend in college. Real athletic type, you know. Did every sport there was, and she was really good, too. She played two or three different varsity sports. No one knew how she did it."

"Where'd you go to college?"

"Yale." Isabelle could anticipate his line of questioning. "Elizabeth never met my friend, Amelia."

Henry remembered that Elizabeth had gone to University of Pennsylvania.

"Is Amelia okay?" Henry wasn't sure why Isabelle brought up her friend, but maybe her friend was sick.

"We all thought she was. After college, she started running marathons, teaching dance classes, rock climbing… really anything. I was busy with work by then, so I didn't really keep up with her, but I'd see her at reunions."

Henry nodded encouragingly.

"We were all really impressed that she kept going after college and didn't sink into the corporate glut."

Henry's nod was knowing. Plenty of people graduated college, got an office job, and never did another active thing again.

"I guess the first sign of trouble was that she hurt her hip somehow, and she never really slowed down to let it heal. But we thought she was just really dedicated." Isabelle shook her head at her naiveté. "But then the doctors told her she had done enough damage to her already injured hip that she'd need it replaced. I don't know how she kept going when it must have hurt…"

"People can ignore a lot of pain if they're determined," Henry offered.

"Well, she was determined. She kept running and working out. We could all tell she was losing weight, but she was so muscle-bound that it was hard to tell. And she had always been skinny. She had that athletic build…" Isabelle stopped, sniffling slightly.

"Did she get help?" Henry asked gently. He knew problems like that could only go on so long before someone needed help to get better.

Isabelle looked at Henry sadly. She could tell he assumed Amelia got better, that the story had a happy ending. She didn't want to have to say what she did.

"She died." Isabelle could feel her eyes widen, trying to keep her eyes from watering. "Her body fat was too low and her heart couldn't keep up. No one realized how much weight she had lost."

Henry took a breath, not having expected that. "I'm sorry. You couldn't have known. It's not your fault." He knew his words sounded perfunctory, but it was always worth saying.

"I know… It's just hard…" Isabelle looked down to hide her tears.

"Of course it's hard. But you were her friend, and that had to be some comfort to her," he placated.

"I suppose. When they found her… They found a few cuts on her."

Henry's eyes closed, almost in resignation. "Was she a cutter?"

"Not that we knew, and not that they found on her... when she died…" Isabelle swallowed. "But she had clearly tried it. The doctors think she did it to deal with the amount of pain she was in."

"Elizabeth wouldn't keep doing it if it didn't work at least some," Henry offered, seeing Isabelle looking a little confused.

"I guess, I just don't get how the additional pain makes it better."

Henry nodded thoughtfully. He knew Isabelle supported Elizabeth completely, but he wasn't sure anyone could really understand cutting if they hadn't witnessed it up close. "Well, one of the things I notice with Elizabeth is that she thinks there's no reason for her to have emotional pain, but if she has physical pain, she can see it and acknowledge it. And she can control the physical pain. She can choose when and how. She can hurt herself worse than anyone else can."

Isabelle shivered slightly. "That makes some sense, even if I don't like it. I just wish she'd do something like take up yoga instead of…"

Henry nodded, sadly. "You and me both, but you know she tried to deal with Iran on her own, just like she's been trying to do everything else. You know she'd think it was a weakness to take time off work for yoga."

"You're right. It's just so scary. You don't think it's a big deal… at least you don't think it's life-threatening… and then… it can get out of hand so quickly…"

Henry nodded, understanding Isabelle's fear. "She is trying to keep it to a minimum, and she's doing better… I know that doesn't make it all better…"

"I know she's trying, but that's not something that people just quit overnight. I had no idea how big of a problem it is. I did some research into it, and the internet says that like one in five women self-injure every year. They're not just counting cutting, but still..."

"I saw some folks in the military who did it to cope with the stress, but it wasn't that pervasive."

"Yeah. The stats are pretty shocking. Especially when you start talking just about adults. There are a lot of teenagers who grow out of it by they time they're in college, but it can really be a problem for older people. One thing I read said that a fifth of adult self-injurers eventually die by suicide."

"That's pretty scary." It was Henry's turn to shiver.

"I know. You don't think Elizabeth is suicidal at all, do you?"

The question surprised Henry. That had not been something he was worried about, but maybe it should have been. After all, he didn't know he should have been worried about it with his dad until it was too late…

"I don't think so... She seems more under control now than she used to. I know she definitely hasn't cut as bad as she did when the hospital called you. That's not to say that some of her cuts aren't pretty nasty."

"You've seen them?"

"She's been letting me help bandage them up. I don't want to encourage the cutting, but she doesn't really talk to anyone, and I need to know she won't feel bad about coming to me."

"She doesn't open up easily. That's for sure." Isabelle shook her head in sadness and frustration. She wanted to help. "I'm just so worried she's going to accidentally hit a vein one of these days."

Henry sighed. "I'm worried about that, too. Just the other night she had these cuts on her upper arm, and one of the cuts was only millimeters away from the vein." Henry tried to get the image of the red length of a cut stopping right as the skin turned blueish-green, signaling the vein beneath.

"You think she wanted to hit the vein?" Isabelle asked, slightly alarmed.

"No," Henry held up a hand to keep Isabelle from panicking, "I think she was just angry and cutting quickly. I don't think she even checked for the vein before she cut."

Isabelle shook her head, upset with her friend for not being more careful. "One of these days, she's going to get unlucky. I'd really feel better if you guys started working with a counselor or therapist. You guys can't do this by yourselves. You need help."

Henry dipped his head down under the weight of Isabelle's heavy gaze. She had said _you need help_ like he needed help, too. That wasn't something he was ready to think about, and it certainly wasn't something he was ready to talk about. "I know. She keeps pretending she's fine, but she's barely keeping her head above water. If anything big happened, I'm worried about what might she might do on accident."

Not missing Henry's rather defensive tone, Isabelle softened and said, "She has been at least responding to my texts. Never with anything real, but I was really worried when she was so isolated..."

"Have you ever seen stuff like this from her before? Has she ever been..." Henry swallowed, "…suicidal or anything like that?"

"Not really. She's always been a pretty intense and determined person. You know how she is. She'll work on something round the clock for days, but that's what she likes doing. Right after she got out of the hospital was when I was so worried about her. She made a few comments about wanting out and being tired of fighting, but since then, I really think she seems better."

"Good. That makes me feel better-"

Isabelle cut him off. "But just like we were saying... She's already got all the tools. If she ever wanted to hurt herself that badly, she wouldn't have to do anything out of the ordinary. She's desensitized to cutting herself. It seems normal to her. It wouldn't be a lot different just to cut a vein."

Henry closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about losing Elizabeth.

He certainly didn't want to lose Elizabeth the same way he had lost his father.

All those feelings were still there. He felt responsible for not noticing, for not being there when his father needed someone to help.

Isabelle continued speaking, and that shook Henry out of his thoughts.

"As fragile as she is right now, and as high-profile as her job is, we just need to be very careful and watchful. She needs help, but she needs to realize that herself. I think she has a lot more thoughts of cutting than she tells us."

Henry considered that, too. Elizabeth was frequently preoccupied with thoughts of cutting. Cutting, thinking about cutting, and hiding her cutting did seem to take up the majority of Elizabeth's day. They still had date nights and talked about a variety of things, but when Elizabeth was feeling a strong urge to cut, it completely took over her whole life, and she couldn't focus on any topic that wasn't cutting. She was obsessed to the point that it interfered with her basic functioning. Henry had seen her when she got that strong urge to cut. She could hardly hold a conversation because her brain was so thoroughly caught up in the need for endorphins.

As an afterthought, Isabelle asked, "Is she sleeping alright? She always used to get in the worst moods when she didn't get enough sleep."

"Oh, um... I assume so..." Elizabeth had come to him with nightmares a couple times, but not very frequently. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't having the nightmares. After all, he had nightmares, but he didn't tell Elizabeth about them. He just tried to ignore them or get enough alcohol in his system so he wouldn't dream. "I'm not sure, really."

Isabelle had to restrain herself from raising an eyebrow. She had half assumed they were already sleeping together regularly. Elizabeth had admitted they had slept together at least once, but maybe it had just been the once... Or maybe it was Elizabeth's old quirk about not sleeping in front of people. Upon seeing Henry's slightly flushed cheeks, Isabelle guessed that Elizabeth's old quirk _was_ posing an issue. Isabelle knew Elizabeth liked Henry and wouldn't want him to be offended, so maybe she could help explain that particular odd behavior.

"Don't feel bad. It's just part of who she is. I haven't seen her sleep in front of anyone for years. She's pretended to a couple of times, but that's about it."

"What?" Henry felt like his thoughts were rushing at the same time that they completely stopped.

"I know Elizabeth is head over heels for you, but I don't want you to think that if she isn't sleeping in front of you it's got anything to do with you. She hasn't slept in front of anyone since she was Chief of Station in Iraq. It was so odd. She never told us why, but it was really inconvenient. Some assignments... you know how it is. Our whole team would have to bunk together to stay hidden, but Elizabeth just refused to sleep unless she was alone in a room that locked."

Henry scrubbed his hand down his face. There had been several times that he thought Elizabeth had fallen asleep in front of him, but she could have been faking. He certainly had seen her exhausted, but forcing herself to stay awake.

There had to be some reason, but the list of reasons a person would be too nervous to fall asleep in front of people had a lot of bad things on it.

"You think something bad happened in Iraq?"

Isabelle realized a little too late that she might have shared more than Elizabeth would have wanted her to. Not that Elizabeth would approve of them talking about her, but Isabelle was sure that once Elizabeth was better, she would understand that this furtive exchange. Even if she were later able to understand them discussing her safety, Elizabeth probably wouldn't appreciate them discussing her sleeping habits.

"It was Iraq in 2003. Nothing good happened." Isabelle backtracked a bit, seeing Henry's discomfort. "But I don't think anything terrible happened to Elizabeth, if that's what you mean. She came back a little more jumpy and nervous, but just as determined to do her job, if not more. There wasn't a big, dramatic change. It changed _everyone_ a little."

Isabelle's words made Henry feel a little better, but he couldn't help but feel like that might be a key to the puzzle of Elizabeth. He had a lot to think about.

"Well, I'll keep an eye on her." He glanced up at Isabelle and back down to his hands.

Isabelle felt her phone buzz to tell her it was time to get to her next appointment. "I'm here for both of you. I know it can be stressful looking after her. Don't forget to take time for yourself. You can't help her if you're constantly burnt out."

"Thanks, Isabelle. _I_ certainly appreciate that you're there for Elizabeth, and I know Elizabeth appreciates you even if she doesn't say so. She's just not really ready to see how much everyone cares about her. She's so caught up in the cutting, and she doesn't want to stop, but she knows that we both want to help her stop."

"I guess if she acknowledged how much we care about her, she'd have to acknowledge how bad the cutting is. If she is convinced no one cares, the cutting doesn't matter."

"I think that's it exactly."

The two stood up and Isabelle gave Henry a hug. "Take care of yourself," she requested.

"You, too. I'm here if you want to talk more about your friend." Henry gently squeezed Isabelle's shoulders and stepped out of the hug.

Isabelle looked up at Henry. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

Henry smiled. "We need to have you over for cards soon. We just need to find someone to play a fourth seat." He looked pointedly down at Isabelle's left hand devoid of rings.

She groaned good-naturedly and lightly slugged him. "I'll have you know I might have my eye on someone…"

"Mmmhmmm…." Henry raised his eyebrows. "Do I know him?"

"Nope." She smirked. "And that's the only answer you get."

Isabelle walked away with a smile on her face. Sometimes, she had just too much fun.

Henry watched her walk away. He could tell that woman was trouble with a capital T. He couldn't think too long on whom she might be interested in because their earlier conversation kept replaying in his mind. He sighed, knowing it would be hard to focus once he got back to the office.

* * *

Henry didn't quite know how he managed to get through the rest of the workday. Somehow though, he found himself sitting in front of the TV on the sofa of Elizabeth's townhouse. It was a little early for his nightly beverage to help him sleep, and that just meant he had to sit with his brooding thoughts for a little longer before he could escape.

He kept coming back to his father. He completely missed the signs, and the signs had been there. Giving things away, making phone calls, settling old arguments…

Henry hadn't thought anything about it, and the result had been disastrous.

And now he was watching Elizabeth hurt herself every night, and he wasn't doing anything but cleaning up after her. A few times, he had noticed additional cuts that Elizabeth must have done during the day… Most days that didn't affect him personally, but on bad days, it was hard not to blame himself for those hidden cuts. Why wouldn't Elizabeth come to him instead of cut?

 _"I say he's dead because of you."_

 _"He said you rejected him – that you treated him like a failure. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt."_

 _"At the lowest point in his life, he reached out to you, and you turned your back on him. You were the last phone call he made, and you did nothing! God knows we couldn't have helped him, but you could have!"_

 _"He started talking about someone who had turned their back on him. And he was talking about you."_

 _Maureen's face betrayed no emotion. Henry could only watch in anger and rejection. When Maureen really wanted to make an impact, she didn't yell or scream. She stared you straight in the eye and destroyed you._

 _Henry searched for a bit of remorse in Maureen's eyes. Maybe he could apologize and they could move on… But no. Maureen completely meant what she said. She never did anything halfway. As far as she was concerned, he had no place in the family because he had already abandoned it._

Henry felt like he was right back in a police station in Pittsburgh with Maureen lashing into him. She blamed him, mostly because he wasn't there most of the time, so it was easy to blame him. He had never really fit in the family, but he had thought they had gotten along better… And then his dad committed suicide.

Henry hadn't pulled the trigger, but he hadn't helped. He had tried so hard to help… But he was selfish. He hadn't been content with Pittsburgh and factory life, so he had gotten education and moved away. He started making money. He wanted to be able to provide for his parents when they got old.

But they never made it that long.

First his mother had died of cancer – cancer that Henry was convinced she had gotten because of all the chemicals at the dry cleaners. She had barely been able to walk by the time she was fifty because of all the hours she spent standing at an ironing board. She ironed clothes she would never be able to afford.

And Henry had left her. He had become the same as one of her rich clients.

Maybe he would have been more help to his family if he had stayed and worked for the factory. It wouldn't have been much money, but he at least would have been there…

He wouldn't have caused his dad so much pain.

From his spot on the couch, Henry watched Elizabeth finish off the last of their dinner dishes. She hadn't asked why he was so quiet. She just let him be, but he could tell she was worried. Here he was causing her pain, too.

He had half a mind to just run away so Elizabeth wouldn't have to deal with him and his problems… But that wouldn't do. It wasn't fair to Elizabeth. Besides, if he weren't there for her, he would just be failing again.

Henry wanted to rip the blades right out of her hands. He wanted to keep her from ever cutting again. That would make him feel better… But he knew it wouldn't work, and it certainly wouldn't make Elizabeth feel better.

No, this was still the same arduous process. Elizabeth wouldn't quit overnight. But maybe it was time to get her moving more in the direction of quitting.

Of course, that meant he had to practice what he preached and try to quit drinking.

God, this was too complicated. How did he go from a straight A college student, a pilot with a perfect rating… to this?

His conversation with Isabelle was starting to hit home. Elizabeth could die just as easily as Isabelle's friend. He wondered if he should just ask Elizabeth if she was at all suicidal… But wouldn't that be extremely rude? Would that put ideas in her head?

Henry didn't know how to handle a suicidal Elizabeth. He didn't even know how to a handle a potentially suicidal Elizabeth.

"Henry, baby?"

Henry glanced up to see Elizabeth sitting beside him on the couch. He looked away.

Elizabeth tried again, "Henry, come on. You don't have to tell me everything. Just let me know you're okay."

 _What if I'm not okay? What then?_ "I'm fine. I don't want to worry you."

"Can I help?"

"No, I think I just want to go to bed early tonight."

"If you think that'll help… But I'm here. You can always come get me if you need something."

"I just want a drink and bed."

Elizabeth nodded. She knew there was no use pushing him. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

"Okay."

She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but she wasn't sure she was entirely successful.

* * *

A/N: Hahaha, life happens, y'all. Sorry I couldn't update for ages. Idk when the next update will be... but if I can get it done before New Years, you'll probably see an update. After that, who knows. I'm going back to working for the government in January and starting a new semester... So who knows how that'll go. I'm hoping it means I'll be able to quit my weekend job.

For anyone keeping track, I got two As and an A- in my first semester of grad school. So woot.

I promise not to abandon the story! If I ever do decide to stop writing it, I will post my notes so you know what happens. My apologies for it being slow going. This story has always been a commentary on self-injury fics that never show an actual resolution - never show the person actually quitting self-injury in a relatively permanent way. Self-injury fics tend to end with someone finding out about the cutting. Or they end with the start of a relationship. Or, you know, they end with the person dying. So I wrote this wanting to explore what it looks like to actually quit cutting, whatever that looks like.

And I wrote this so I could map out what quitting would look like for myself. I hoped by the time I finished this fic, I would have that figured out. That was when the original plan included 23 chapters. Now the plan includes 72 chapters. See what's happening?

 **For the record, Henry really should just ask Elizabeth if she's suicidal. As a general rule, that is the thing to do.**

 **Feedback wanted:**

Do you think of cutting as an addiction similar to alcoholism or drug abuse? Do you think cutters have control over whether or not they cut? Can they will the urge away? Explain.

What Hogwarts houses would you put Henry and Elizabeth in? Explain. Also any other characters you care to mention.

For the current or former self-injurers, what do you think the role of sensory processing is in self-injury? Do you find that you have trouble with sensory integration? Do you have trouble feeling present in your body? How does that manifest? What things do you do that help with sensory processing and integration? (Sensory issues are already in the plan, but I want some more perspectives on it.)

What do you want to see in Isabelle's future? There's a plan for her romantically (and I can't tell you how proud of myself I am for thinking up her romantic arc), but not so much professionally or personally, and I want to flesh out her character a bit. Do you think she'd be a career CIA officer? Or would she get tired of it and move to another agency? Maybe advocacy? Start knitting?

 **Review responses:**

To the anon who suggested tackling toxic masculinity - oh yeah. It's coming. I got you. Glad the hints I've been leaving have been reading. One of my undergrad majors was in gender studies. But let me know if there's a specific situation you want me to explore.

To the folks rooting for more Russell... convince me. He annoys me, but if you give me something you want to see, I might toss it in. He's not going to become a major part of the story because ugh that man. He's too party politics for me.

All of Elizabeth's DS agents know she cuts. They had to protect her while she was hospitalized, so they're aware. But they can't talk about it because of confidentiality. I'm not sure about their rules regarding suicidal behavior, but we're going to say that DS isn't interfering in her cutting because she always does it in private.

As always, let me know if you have suggestions or things you want to see in the story. I really love the feedback I get and the ideas y'all give me.


	31. I found a love in you

Chapter 30: I found a love in you

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth was still worried about Henry. He got up early and packed his lunch. Most days, he either bought his lunch at the Pentagon or picked something up and brought it over to Elizabeth at the State Department. If he packed his lunch, he could eat alone in his office without having to see anyone.

"Henry? Do you want to go out tonight? We could get dinner…"

"I've got a lot of work to get through today, so I'm not sure I'll have time. But I promise we'll go out this weekend."

Elizabeth let Henry lean over to kiss her. She could tell he wasn't trying to start a fight. He wanted her to drop it, but he was trying to be nice about it.

She supposed she could give him a day to sort through whatever was bothering him.

"Alright. But let me give you a hug before you leave." She had seen Henry edging for the door, but she wasn't about to let him escape without her having a chance to show him how much she loved him.

Henry felt the tension in his stomach relax as Elizabeth embraced him. She didn't know how guilty he was. She didn't realize how powerless he was to help her… But God help him if she didn't know how to make him feel better. She hadn't pushed him or yelled at him; she was just holding him as if he were the most precious person in the world.

"I love you, Henry. Have a good day at work." Elizabeth kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his neck, feeling almost lightheaded at the scent of his aftershave. He was so perfect, and she wished he would let her soothe away whatever it was that was bothering him.

"I love you, too. Tell you what, if I get home in time, I'll make you more of that Parmesan popcorn."

"Just come home. That's all I need." She pecked him again, this time on the lips, before she gave him a sultry look through her eyelashes, "But if you want to make that popcorn, I'll not say no."

Henry smiled down at his girlfriend. She was adorable… and predictable… and seeing her happy and flirty was the balm he needed when he was so internally conflicted.

"Okay," he returned her kiss, "I'll try to get home in time to make you that popcorn. See you tonight, beautiful." He let his hands drift down to her hips and squeezed lightly.

Elizabeth smiled as she watched Henry leave.

* * *

Henry nursed his drink as he sat in the living room. A few days ago, Elizabeth had convinced him to only have two shots instead of the three she had been pouring for him. He found it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Since he hadn't been drinking as much, his tolerance wasn't what it had been. Two drinks weren't quite as much as he really wanted, but it did help him get to sleep.

Elizabeth was up in her bedroom cutting like she had every night since the beginning of their arrangement. It had gone on for several weeks now, and Henry could tell that it was slow going, but they were starting to be more open with each other, particularly after they'd indulged in their chosen vices. When Elizabeth came downstairs to have her cuts disinfected and bandaged, sometimes she would tell him why she had needed to cut.

He knew Elizabeth felt like she was burdening him when she told him her worries, but he didn't feel burdened at all. Sure, a few times he had been so drained that he didn't have the energy to listen. Most of the time, though, he was genuinely interested, and it felt good to be close to Elizabeth, both physically and emotionally.

Finishing his drink, he saw Elizabeth come down the stairs with a hand towel over her upper arm. Henry leaned down and pulled a box of bandages from the end table beside his chair. They had started keeping a stash of bandages and alcohol swabs in the cabinet.

"Hey, baby. You okay?"

Elizabeth glanced down at the cuts on her arm. They were about average for her. Not too deep – just deep enough to leave a little trickle of blood running down onto the towel.

"Yeah."

Henry patted his lap and let Elizabeth get comfortable before taking the towel away and disinfecting the cuts. When he had finished and put the box of bandages aside, he kissed her shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, babe. You've done well. That was only six cuts-…"

Elizabeth gave him a look.

Henry continued, "And the important thing is that none of them were deep. It's getting better. I'm proud of you."

"I still need it." She sounded like a petulant child.

"I know. But you _are_ doing better, and that's worth congratulating." Over the last few days, Henry had observed Elizabeth doing more of the things she enjoyed. She had gone out for dinner with Isabelle, taken a bubble bath, and let him give her a back massage. He was relieved that Elizabeth seemed to be better. It had really worn on him that she might be suicidal, and he was beyond thrilled that she was feeling better, even if she wasn't feeling _well._

"I didn't do anything… I just haven't needed to cut as much."

"Can you think of any reason you might not have needed to cut as much?"

"Things have just been easier…"

"You don't think it could be because you've been meeting up with Isabelle and talking to me more?" Henry was half joking, but he really did want her to start recognizing that while she couldn't control everything, she could do some things that made her urges to cut more manageable. Elizabeth had a tendency to let herself get so stressed out that she forgot she could take steps to relieve that stress.

She tried to glare at him again, but she was tired, and the glare didn't quite have the venom she would have liked.

Henry could see that she was ready to call it a night.

"Come on, baby, up to bed."

Elizabeth nodded. She knew what Henry was trying to get her to acknowledge, but it was a much bigger conversation than she was up for just then. Things _had_ been easier at work. And while she knew Henry was trying to empower her to help herself... She almost felt like there was some implicit blame. Henry hadn't meant to blame her for cutting; she knew that. But if he was trying to get her to put in all the work of talking to people – and it was work - to make herself feel better, then wasn't it her fault that she felt terrible when she didn't do those things?

That was all too much to contemplate. She'd rather just let Henry tuck her into bed.

* * *

That weekend, Elizabeth woke up late and heard Henry talking downstairs. She assumed he was talking on the phone, but the smell of pancakes lured her downstairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she saw Henry give her a small smile and dish her up a plate of pancakes with butter.

"Thanks, Erin. I appreciate the update. Give my love to Shane… Yeah… We'll have to plan something the next time our schedules match up. And tell Sarah to call me if she wants advice on finding an internship. I'm happy to help… Love you, too…. Bye."

Henry turned back to Elizabeth. "Sorry, babe. Just my sister. How are your pancakes?"

"Excellent, as always. How's Erin?"

"Seems fine." Henry drank some coffee and started cutting up a cantaloupe for them to share.

"Now, is Sarah Erin's daughter?"

"Shane's," Henry corrected.

"You haven't talked to them much since your father died…"

Henry didn't say anything. There wasn't much to say. He _hadn't_ talked to them much since his father died. That didn't have to mean anything. It was how things turned out. He may not be thrilled with the situation, but he certainly didn't know how to fix it.

He looked down and realized he had been cutting the same piece of cantaloupe into smaller and smaller pieces and now he only had a pile of orange slivers.

Elizabeth called Henry's name for the third time and got no response, so she left her pancakes on the counter and hugged Henry from behind. She rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"Hey, It's okay."

"It's fine. Sorry I zoned out." Henry tried to shrug her off.

Elizabeth didn't let herself be deterred. She took the knife out of Henry's hands and led him to sit down. "I'm trying to help."

"I know, babe… I'm still just… I messed up when Dad died… and some things were said. Shane is coming around… But I'm still guilty about it."

Henry held his breath as he admitted his guilt. Elizabeth didn't understand it, but just saying he felt guilty was an admission.

Being perceptive, Elizabeth spoke quietly, "You didn't mention Maureen. You have another sister." Elizabeth had looked up Patrick's obituary, and she knew Henry had three siblings.

"I don't want to talk about Maureen."

"It sounds like you don't want to talk about any of them."

"I don't." Henry gave Elizabeth a pleading look. He wasn't angry. He was hurt. The pain still felt fresh, and he wasn't sure he could handle it on his own. But he couldn't foist his pain on Elizabeth…

"Henry..." Elizabeth didn't know how to help. She wanted Henry to tell her what was bothering him so much. If she knew what the problem was, she could at least try to make him feel better. It hurt her that she loved him so much, but she didn't know what he was upset about.

"You don't understand," Henry heard his voice go rough with emotion, "It's all my fault. I messed up…"

Elizabeth felt her heart cry right for Henry. She knew he didn't like to appear weak, but he was obviously holding back tears. She knew he must be really hurting. "Oh, baby, come here." She put an arm around Henry and led him to the sofa. She sat him down and wrapped him in her embrace.

"Henry, I understand feeling guilty about your father's death. But it's not your fault."

Henry huffed a little, half soaking up the comfort Elizabeth was offering, half overwhelmed by his guilt.

"I as good as killed him. You were just a kid when your parents died. There's no way you could be guilty…"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She knew Henry wouldn't believe that she understood until she told him the whole story. She knew how much it hurt her to not know what was bothering Henry, so maybe it would help him to know...

"I was thirteen when my parents died."

They locked eyes for a moment, Henry silently encouraging her to continue. He could tell she needed him to hear what she had to tell him.

"I was studying in my room. I studied a lot back then. My dad made fun of me for it sometimes… He called me Euclid… Anyway, my dad came in my room and asked if I wanted to go get milkshakes. They were one of my favorites… But I told him I really needed to study."

"What did you have to study for at thirteen?"

"I was in high school math, and I guess I thought I had to be the best in the class to prove that I belonged there."

Henry wasn't surprised Elizabeth had been intelligent, but he had new respect for her. She had been dedicated, even as a child.

Elizabeth continued, "My mom came in and convinced me to take a break. She said I could get two scoops of strawberry ice cream in my milkshake. Strawberry was our favorite flavor, both of us." She remembered the tall, pink glasses they used to enjoy so much. Her mother really didn't indulge much, but she never turned down a milkshake. Elizabeth remembered several days she had had a rough time at school, and her mom had taken her out for a milkshake and a pep talk. It never failed. That was the power of a strawberry milkshake... and a mother's love and undivided attention.

"We got in the car to drive over to the milkshake place… We were kinda out in the country a ways. It took fifteen minutes to get into town on this little winding road."

Henry could almost see where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit.

"There was another car coming towards us, and it swerved, so my dad swerved, and the car turned around and then… I don't know exactly… But there was a bit of a hill that the road was on and the car rolled down the hill…"

Henry held Elizabeth's hand, unconsciously rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. Her words were straight to the point, but he could see that as she told him what happened, she was seeing it all again in her mind.

"I was kinda dazed, but I was fine…" Elizabeth closed her eyes. She remembered that feeling of shock and disorientation. It had taken her a minute to realize what happened and that she was okay... And then she had looked for her parents, the people who could always fix anything... Even all the years later, she could see her dad exactly as he had looked. His face was covered in blood, and his eyes didn't move. They stared blankly. Not at her. Those eyes didn't know she was there. Those eyes didn't care that she existed. Her dad was gone.

"My dad... He… He died instantly." Elizabeth couldn't help but think that the look on her dad's face had been eerily similar to one she would see more than thirty years later on Fred Cole's face. The look of death didn't change, but it was still just as haunting and unnerving. Where only moments before, the look on her dad's face had shown her that he loved her, once he was dead, his face only showed her that he was truly gone.

"But my mom… Mom was still alive." In her memory, Elizabeth could see her mother. She had blood all down her face, just like her dad, but her eyes weren't unfocused and empty. She couldn't talk. But she was definitely alive.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Henry stroked Elizabeth's hair.

"I didn't know what to do. So I ran for help…"

Elizabeth remembered using her compact to make a flare, hoping someone would see… But no one came. When she went back to the car to check on her mother, she was gone. Now both of her parents had the same unfeeling, unloving, unforgiving look of death. Elizabeth had cried and screamed and stood frozen in shock and then cried and screamed again... She hadn't been able to accept it. Her parents couldn't be dead. They were her parents... It was their job to be there for her...

She sniffed, trying to compose herself to get through the last of the story. It seemed that the telling had gone so quickly, but when she thought about it, it seemed to have lasted hours.

"I'm here. I've got you," Henry reassured.

"She had some glass from the windshield embedded in her leg… and if I had noticed at first… If I had tried to stop the bleeding…"

Henry was quick to reassure her. "It probably wouldn't have made any difference at all, babe. It was a terrible accident. There's no way anyone could have saved them." He didn't know if immediate medical intervention might have saved Elizabeth's mother, but he knew it wasn't his girlfriend's fault.

"But I spent those last minutes of her life shouting uselessly by the road instead of next to her." She couldn't help letting the sobs take over.

"Oh, baby. No, you were trying your hardest. You kept your head. You knew you needed help, and you were trying to get help. You couldn't have done anything else…"

It took nearly ten minutes for Elizabeth to cry herself out and get her voice back. It felt good to let Henry hold her while she grieved. That comforting touch was what she had wanted so much in the years after her parents' deaths.

Henry understood Elizabeth's guilt. He knew it was misplaced, but he understood now, and he felt honored that she had shared it with him.

"Baby, just for the record... That was 100% not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. I'm just glad you made it." He kissed her forehead.

Elizabeth's voice was hoarse and scratchy from all her tears, but she felt another wave of pain at Henry's words. He was glad she was alive, but she didn't deserve to have lived when she had failed her mother... "But... But the last... the last thing she saw... was me... me not able to... to save her."

Another wave of tears enveloped his girlfriend as Henry realized the weight of shame that Elizabeth had felt for so many years. "No, baby. She didn't see you failing her at all. She saw that you were okay. She knew that you made it out of there. She saw that you _lived_."

The tears gradually slowed to a stop as Elizabeth digested Henry's words. Maybe he was right. That would be like her mother, always looking out for everyone else... Some of the tightness in Elizabeth's chest loosened just a bit. Henry knew the story, but he didn't blame her... Maybe her mother wouldn't have, either.

Elizabeth remembered after the accident, she hadn't taken any more study breaks because she thought something awful would happen if she stopped studying. It was the guilt eating away at her. She had to be the best because she had so much to make up for...

Henry could see Elizabeth was lost in thought, but he had a few questions he hoped she wouldn't mind answering.

"Who took care of you after the car crash?"

"Um, that first night they put me with a temporary foster family. And then my dad had a sister, but she wasn't well, and she couldn't really take me in. She died not long after that. Her husband died just a few years ago. Brain cancer. I went and visited him before he died, and he said he was sorry for not taking me in…"

"I'm really sorry, baby. You deserved better than that."

Elizabeth wasn't sure she agreed with Henry, so she continued. "I ended up going to boarding school. It was the best thing in the situation. It was horrible in some ways, but it was the best option at the time."

"What was horrible about it?"

"No one touched me. No one hugged me. I didn't get another hug for seven years." She snuggled further into Henry's arms, comforting herself that that part of her life was over. It seemed ironic. She had spent the last nearly fifteen years of her life avoiding any sort of touch, and she was still upset that she hadn't gotten any hugs when she was a teenager.

"No one hugged you? Not even other girls in school?"

"Not really… I didn't really make friends with the girls in my grade. I took classes with kids a few grades up, and they thought I was pretty weird." Some of the cruel names they had called her still haunted her sometimes. It wasn't so much that she cared what they thought... It was that they hadn't wanted her around. They didn't care about her at all. To the older kids she was in classes with, she was just a baby. And to the kids her own age, she was a weird freak genius. She remembered her one real friend, Joey, but he was Islamic, and he knew the teachers would tell his father if he had been seen touching a girl. As it was, they still had to sneak around to the roof of the dorm to spend time together without people making fun of them. Elizabeth sighed... She still missed Joey. He was yet another casualty to her ineptitude.

"I'm sorry, babe."

"When a woman I was dating in college tried to hug me, I completely froze up. I was so unused to hugs."

"Woman?" Henry asked, not sure if he had heard right.

Elizabeth winked, giving him a smile. "You shouldn't assume. You never asked…"

Henry knew he looked like a fish opening and closing its mouth. "Oh…" He took a second to compose his thoughts and replied with something a little more intelligent. "You're right. I shouldn't have assumed."

"That isn't an issue for you, is it?"

Looking over the amazing, brilliant, and complex woman in front of him, Henry smiled at her. It had been a surprise, but with a moment to think, he knew just what to say. "Of course not, babe. I'm glad I know because it's part of you, and I love you."

* * *

The next afternoon, Henry found Elizabeth sitting in the window seat reading briefing books. He had been mulling over the previous day's conversation all day. If Elizabeth could trust him that much, then he could trust her. In some ways, he owed it to her to let her know what the matter was. She didn't deserve to try to help only to be turned away. And part of him did, _desperately_ , want to talk about what happened with his dad. What stopped him from talking was the fear and guilt and shame and grief and anxiety and pain and despair and... everything... But Elizabeth had shown him how much it could help to talk about these things... So maybe he could do it...

"Can I join you?"

"Of course." She made room behind herself and Henry settled in, letting Elizabeth rest back against his chest.

He took a deep breath and said, "My dad didn't die of natural causes. He took a bottle of sleeping pills…" Henry closed his eyes, knowing that there was no turning back once he had said that.

Elizabeth didn't interrupt. She held onto Henry hands and rubbed his arm soothingly.

"He and I hadn't really been talking much. See, Dad worked in the factory. He was big on union stuff. Our family never had much money because Dad didn't make much, and he got passed up a lot for promotions because of all his union activity."

Henry dropped a kiss to Elizabeth's shoulder. It kept him grounded and gave him time to think.

"My mom worked at a laundry. She did a lot of ironing and dry cleaning, but that didn't bring in a whole lot, and eventually she couldn't stand at the ironing board for hours and hours. Maureen worked as a babysitter and housekeeper sometimes… We had enough to eat, but no way to get ahead. Family was big, though. Families helped each other. But, I mean, with everyone working so much… It was hard to get that sense of family. Even when people were home, they were tired."

"That had to be hard."

"It was. I wanted out. I joined the Marines to get a college scholarship. I left for UVA when I was seventeen. I was the first one in the family to go to college. It was a big deal… They were all proud of me… But they also didn't really understand it. They didn't seem to understand why it wasn't good enough for me to stay there and work in the factory like Dad."

"You had different priorities, babe…"

"Yeah, but that put a real wedge between me and them. Dad came down for parents' weekend that first year. I knew he didn't really have the money for the trip… There was this dinner for fathers and sons. I… I… didn't sign us up. Everyone at UVA was old money and fancy suits and gold watches… And I wasn't. And Dad certainly wasn't. I was… too embarrassed to go to something like with Dad. He would have started complaining about how pointlessly expensive everything was. And he would have been right. I think that's why I was so embarrassed about it. I knew the gold watches were stupid… But I still wanted to be part of it. I wanted to get out of Pittsburgh and that neighborhood where no one had any money. No one had choices…"

Henry paused to take a few deep breaths, and he noticed Elizabeth kissing his hands. It helped. He started speaking again.

"Well, when I was taking Dad to dinner at the local pizza joint, he saw the sign for the dinner… He looked devastated. He knew I was ashamed of him…"

"You weren't ashamed of him."

"No." Henry shook his head. "But he thought so. And it was a nuance that didn't matter. At the end of the day, I didn't invite him."

"But you still loved him."

"Of course I did. But I didn't do a good job of showing it. He didn't really talk to me much. Sure, he'd ask me how things were going when I came home for holidays. But I was gone so much… I tried to work it out so I'd be on assignment for the holidays. Everyone thought I wanted the holiday pay, but I really didn't want to go home and have everything be awkward. I made more money than both my parents combined in my first job out of college… There was no way I could make that not awkward."

"You stayed in the military longer than you had to."

"Yeah. It paid well. The benefits were good, and there was nothing really tying me down. I only retired the official military stuff because I didn't have a whole lot of room left to climb, and I could do more interesting stuff on the civilian side."

"How did your family feel about the military?"

"They thought it was fine, but it was still leaving the family. They thought I had a Catholic duty to take care of my family, and I was abandoning that duty. Maureen… When Dad died… Maureen had heard him tell the story of that dinner at UVA. She said… She said that he was dead because of me."

"What? He killed himself because of a dinner?"

"No… I left part out… Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay. Just slow down. Take your time."

"He got swindled. He thought he was dating a woman online. After Mom died, he was really lost. He had never done very well looking after himself. He dated this woman online for a while, and they were going to get married, but the woman needed money to move… I don't know. It was all a scam. One of his friends was posing as a woman online. This guy needed the money… Dad gave him all his savings… even mortgaged the house… Everything he had. And then the woman stopped responding and he realized he had been had."

"That's awful."

Henry nodded. "Maureen said... She said that Dad had no way out because I had embarrassed him. None of them had any money, but he could have turned to me, but I had embarrassed him… So it was my fault."

"Henry…"

"She's right! He called me before he did it. A week or two ahead. He just wanted to make peace. But he didn't ask for anything or tell me about it. He didn't feel comfortable asking me. I wasn't present in the family. I wasn't there for him!"

"Henry, please…"

"No!" He sobbed. "I should have recognized the signs… I should have checked on him… Anything! It was all there! If I had been there, I would have seen the signs and known he was suicidal!"

"Okay, it's okay. Just let it out."

Henry shook his head. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to drink.

Elizabeth felt Henry try to stand up, but firmly pushed him back down. "No, stay with me. You'll feel better in a minute, I promise. Just let yourself feel it, okay? I know it hurts, but you can do this."

"I don't want you to see me like this."

"Too bad. I love you, warts and all. You think I've never seen someone cry before?"

"You need someone to take care of you, not someone to break down on you."

Elizabeth knelt in front of him since his head was bent down. "Hey, look at me. You can cry and break down as much as you want, okay? I don't need a hero. I just need my boyfriend. This is a two way street, and I've done plenty of crying. This isn't anything big or scary, okay? Just cry and let yourself grieve."

Henry nodded and slid off the window seat to sit on the floor in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face against her shoulder. She was warm and soft, and it felt good to hide himself in her for a while.

When he was done crying, he had to smile. Elizabeth was right. He felt better having cried himself out. It had hurt, but somehow it felt better…

"You okay?"

"I'm okay."

* * *

*I'm using artistic license to erase LGBTQ oppression committed by the US Government. Until President Clinton signed Executive Order 12968 in 1995, LGBTQ folks could not get a security clearance legally. If you're interested in what changed that, I'd recommend a movie/book called _Serving in Silence_. If you like reading court cases, there's a case from 1987 called High Tech Gays v. DISCO (Defense Industrial Security Clearance Office) that outlines some of the reasons the government thought gay people shouldn't have security clearances. The name alone is reason to read it. But also it will make you mad.

For the purposes of this story, Bess didn't lie to the government. We'll just pretend that EO 12968 was signed in 1985 or something. Not that Reagan would have signed it in a million years… But I really wanted to make Bess bi/pan… For one thing, what studies have been done say that LGBTQ folk are 3 to 6 times more likely to self-injure than straight folks. It's been estimated that 40% of LGBTQ people self-harm at least once. So just… I'm selectively modifying history in a completely impractical way… It's another thing I'm just going to make you overlook.

A/N: Yeah... I know... It took me forever to get this out. Sorry. It'll probably take another while to get the next one out since school starts back on Monday and I'm still settling into my new job. Thank you all for the lovely reviews.

I should find out in the next month or two if I get an interview to stay on permanently in my current job. That's what I'm really hoping I'll be able to do. So send me positive vibes! Right now, I'm still considered an intern, so I have to reapply every four months. But at least this internship is paid at a normal rate!

As always, please review with comments, suggestions, or questions. You all make the story better with your input. I really appreciate the folks who responded to my last set of questions!

I'm super excited to have finally gotten to the reveal of Elizabeth's sexual orientation. I've been sitting on that one since the beginning. I'm not out of surprises, though! Just to let you know what's coming (spoiler alert), next chapter will *finally* cover the meeting with DS. And then chapter 33 will cover what happened in Iraq. But chapter 33 may get renumbered to 34 because this chapter got long, and some of the stuff I was planning in this chapter got pushed to the next one... But it's coming! I promise! We will get some actual plot movement in this story!


	32. Tears may fall and hearts may break

Chapter 31: Tears may fall and hearts may break

* * *

 _When he was done crying, he had to smile. Elizabeth was right. He felt better having cried himself out. It had hurt, but somehow it felt better…_

 _"You okay?"_

 _"I'm okay."_

* * *

"Good. Let's get off the floor."

"Good idea. I'm getting too old for this floor stuff."

"You're not the only one," Elizabeth said at the sound of her bones cracking as she stood up.

Henry settled on the sofa and maneuvered Elizabeth into his lap so he could cuddle her. "You're gorgeous. Not a day over twenty-five."

Elizabeth snorted. "You need to get your glasses fixed…"

"Nope." Henry started tickling her with kisses along her collarbone.

Growing more serious, Elizabeth looked Henry in the eye. "Thank you for telling me all that, Henry. It means a lot that you trusted me. Thank you for letting me in."

Henry couldn't hide his blush.

"It's still embarrassing."

"What is?"

"I still feel so guilty. For his death. For making more money than he did. For the UVA dinner. For not carrying the union mantle…"

"I know you feel guilty, but absolutely none of that was your fault. There's hardly ever one thing that makes people commit suicide. It's always a whole list of things. You weren't the reason he did it. He had to have had a lot of reasons."

"How do you know?" Henry asked with baited breath.

"I had a friend in college who died by suicide. It hit us all really hard, but he had only been at school a semester. We felt bad, but it still wasn't our fault. He came in with a lot of problems, and they were just too much for him, and he didn't know how to reach out. He gave up. Like your dad. He had a lot of day-to-day things going on that you couldn't have caused. Relationships go both ways. You guys didn't have the best relationship, but he hadn't called you all those years to try to patch things up… It's just one of those things… There's nothing to do now but go on living and use the good things he taught you. Honor him by showing how much he did for you."

Henry knew she spoke from experience. She had lost both her parents and had to figure out how to go on… And she had figured it out with at least some success. She was Secretary of State, after all.

"You're right."

"And I certainly wouldn't feel guilty about not taking up the union mantle. Have you seen the nonsense the federal unions yell about these days?"

Henry groaned. "I think ours is currently arguing about how many conference rooms we have because we're remodeling."

They shared an eye roll.

Elizabeth went on, "I mean, I know we owe a lot to unions, and there are still plenty of places that desperately need union rights, but some of the unions are arguing for really stupid stuff."

"Oh, Dad wasn't opposed to arguing for really stupid stuff. He loved a good argument."

"Much like you?" Elizabeth winked.

Henry shot her a mock glare before smiling and letting his girlfriend continue.

"And for the record, there's no shame in making more money than your parents. It doesn't mean you don't respect them."

Sighing, Henry said, "People acted like it did. They acted like if I did something, I was saying it was bad that everyone else didn't do it. Everyone was getting married because that was just what you did. People took terrible jobs because they were scared of being unemployed. They let fear and social pressure dictate what they did, or at least it would have been that way if I did that stuff. Some people were happy staying there, but I just couldn't stay. I felt trapped. But Dad acted like I was shallow and just trying to be rich and fancy. Dad never thought I was successful even with plenty of money. His measure of success was having a wife and kids. He used to tell me that I couldn't keep a girlfriend…"

"You had different priorities. There's no one definition of success." Elizabeth gently caressed Henry's shoulder, trying to reassure him.

Henry didn't meet her eyes. "Dad used to say that all rich people cheated their way there."

Moving herself so Henry had no choice but to look at her, Elizabeth said, "We both know that isn't true. Sure, some people don't work for their money, but other people do work their way up from the bottom. Like you. All you have to do is look at the number of unpaid interns working three jobs to pay their rent."

"Does State still do that unpaid internship nonsense? I remember that when I was starting out. I was able to avoid it because I was in the military, but during the summers in college… I had to pay rent. I couldn't afford the unpaid internships, but I needed the experience to get a real job. It was just a way of keeping poor kids out of good-paying jobs."

"For the record, I've requested money to pay our interns… But getting money out of Congress is a pain. I know… I know how much time officer training takes. You had to work really hard to get through school. Your parents didn't know what all was involved in that. They had no way of knowing how great you were. But that doesn't mean you left them behind. That doesn't mean you didn't appreciate them. That doesn't mean you didn't love them."

Henry needed a moment to process her words, so he shot back, "Just because you couldn't save your mother… That doesn't mean you didn't love her enough."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. Henry always seemed to know where the heart of the matter was. They were more similar than she liked to admit. She appreciated Henry calling her out, though. It made her realize how unreasonably she treated herself sometimes.

"I guess both of us still blame ourselves too much…"

"I think we already knew that. We just couldn't let go of that guilt."

"It's almost easier to blame myself instead of just saying that something awful happened and nothing could stop it," Elizabeth muttered.

Henry chuckled. "We're both control freaks."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

They cuddled together for a few minutes. They both needed some reassurance.

"Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"Just for the record… I think it's great you offered to help Sarah find an internship. To me, that makes all your sacrifice worth it. You _can_ help your family."

Henry thought about that. He supposed it did make him feel better – less guilty – about all the opportunity he had had, if he helped someone else find those opportunities.

"Sarah's perfectly welcome to stay here if she finds one of those unpaid internships."

Elizabeth felt a kiss against her cheek.

"Thanks, babe. That means a lot."

"Oh, speaking of… I think it's time we added you to the lease. You know, make our cohabitation legal."

Henry laughed. "You want me to make a legal woman of you?"

Elizabeth's face scrunched up slightly in confusion.

"Religious joke. Don't worry about it."

Elizabeth kissed him. "You never fail to teach me something." She kissed him again. "I love you…"

"I love you, too… You sure you're ready for me to give up my old apartment and live here?"

They both knew it would mean that any breakup would be a lot messier and take more time.

"I'm ready. Are you?'

"I am." Henry knew he _was_ ready. It was a big step. It was scary. But it was okay because even if he had a bad day and started crying, Elizabeth didn't mind. Elizabeth was there for him. She loved him. That was enough.

* * *

"Hey babe?" Henry called up the stairs where Elizabeth was getting ready for work.

"Yeah?" She called back.

"Nadine wants us to look at an article that was just posted this morning."

Elizabeth finished buttoning her suit jacket as she descended the stairs. "Fine. Bring it along in the car. We have that meeting with DS first thing this morning, so we can read it together on the way."

"You look great, babe." Henry leaned in to kiss her.

Looking her boyfriend up and down, taking in the crisp suit and slightly gelled hair, she said, "You don't clean up so bad yourself." She stole a second kiss before heading out for the car.

Outside, Henry kept his arm around her. She knew that a few months ago, something like that would have annoyed her and made her feel trapped. Now, though, it made her feel safe and loved. She genuinely enjoyed being close to Henry, and it was particularly nice to take these last private moments to be together before they began their days.

"After you," Henry held open the door for her.

Elizabeth smiled and let him help her up onto the seat.

Once they were seated in the back of the black SUV, Elizabeth asked Henry, "Okay, what's this article?"

"I'm just pulling it up now," Henry murmured, fiddling with his phone. "Oh.. Damn."

"What?"

"The press decided me moving in with you was newsworthy."

"Must be a slow news day…" Elizabeth tried to joke, but she knew it was probably going to be bad.

"Must be. They dug up some religious purists to write an op-ed saying we're setting a bad example for kids by cohabitating before marriage."

Elizabeth sunk into her seat and let her head fall back. It _was_ bad. "You're kidding."

"Sorry, babe. You wanna see it?" Henry offered her his smartphone.

Elizabeth glanced at the phone, seeing the large headline that said _"Is Elizabeth McCord too immoral for America?"_

"No. Please. Spare me," she groaned, unable to deal with it so early in the morning. They had had a perfectly lovely five minutes to themselves, and then the shock of the real world had settled in because of one news article.

"It'll be okay. It'll blow over. We're both adults, and we haven't done anything wrong." Henry tried to be reassuring. He squeezed her thigh gently. "Just breathe. We can do this."

Frank called from the front seat. "We're here, ma'am."

"Right. Well, let's get this meeting over with. We can worry about the press later."

* * *

"Madam Secretary, Dr. McCord, thank you for meeting with me," Stephen Fitzwallace greeted as he stood up from the couch outside Elizabeth's office where he had been waiting.

"Of course, Stephen, please come in." Elizabeth shook his hand and gestured through the door.

Stephen let Elizabeth pass and reached for Henry's hand. "Good morning, Dr. McCord. I'm Stephen Fitzwallace, Director of the Diplomatic Security Service."

Henry nodded slightly, shaking the man's hand and unobtrusively patting his back. "Good morning. Good to meet you." He sized the man up. Stephen Fitzwallace was probably just over 40, and in very good shape. Henry could tell the man was carrying a shoulder holster. When he stood up from the couch, he had touched his left side, and Henry's practiced eye could tell he was adjusting his weapon.

Smiling slightly, Stephen got out his badge and handed it to Henry. He knew Henry had only patted his back to check for a holster. "The Director of DSSS is an active special agent, so it's standard procedure for us to carry concealed weapons. Good eye, though."

"Thanks, though maybe I need to get better at the pat down." Henry laughed and handed Stephen his badge back.

Once they were inside, Elizabeth gestured for Henry and Stephen to sit down while she hung up her coat. "My chief of staff didn't give me a lot of details about why you wanted to meet with us…"

"Of course. I didn't think it appropriate to tell her, as it's your business. Since you and Dr. McCord have begun living together, we would like to offer Dr. McCord DS protection."

"Is that necessary?" Elizabeth hadn't thought about someone wanting to hurt Henry… and certainly not because he was her boyfriend. The thought was nearly panic inducing. She sat down behind her desk rather heavily.

"It's standard procedure to offer spouses and partners protection. We haven't conducted a threat assessment, if that's what you're asking."

"But he's at risk?"

"Well, yes, ma'am. Everyone is at some risk. We have no reason to think that he's at any higher risk now, but as he receives more public attention, that risk won't go down."

"It's fine. I don't want DS protection." Henry could see Elizabeth was nervous, but he knew DS was only following the book. He hoped he could keep Elizabeth from freaking out if he let her know that he wasn't worried.

Elizabeth turned sharply to look across her desk at Henry. His face was set in that super macho, military look. That look used to turn her on, but now it seemed nothing short of foolish. He wasn't taking charge. He was ignoring the danger – at least in her mind.

Turning back to the director, Elizabeth spoke firmly, "Stephen, we'll take some time to think about it."

"No, there's no need for me to have security. I decline," Henry countered.

"Henry!" Elizabeth was frustrated. Not only was her boyfriend being incredibly bone-headed, he was doing it in front of one of her employees. If she weren't so angry, she knew she would be hyperventilating.

"Uh… I can give you a minute to discuss it…" Stephen shifted nervously.

"No, we're fine. Thank you for meeting with us today, Director Fitzwallace. It was a pleasure meeting with you. We'll be in touch if we need anything." Henry stood and gathered his things, clearly ending the meeting.

"Of course. I'm always available to either of you should you need anything."

Elizabeth sighed. This meeting had not gone well, but she couldn't do anything about it at the moment. If she tried to make Henry talk about it just then, they'd cause a scene. They could talk about it later, alone. "Yes, thank you, Stephen."

Stephen Fitzwallace indicated his head to his boss and quickly retreated.

Elizabeth saw Henry moving towards the door, without waiting for her to gather her things. She called him back. "Henry! What…?"

"We can talk about it tonight. It's not a big deal, babe. They just have to offer as standard procedure. You know that. Don't worry. I won't get hurt." Henry kept his voice light even though it sounded forced.

"But Henry…"

"I promise it's okay. I'll see you tonight."

"Okay…" Elizabeth started, but Henry was already out the door.

* * *

Elizabeth set out plates and dished up the takeout she had picked up on the way home. She was home early because she had plenty to say to Henry.

Just as she sat down, schooling her features imperiously, Henry came in the door holding two paper bags of groceries.

"You can put those away. I got us dinner tonight."

Henry paused, seeing the trap that had been laid for him. "I see that."

He put away the groceries he had bought. He could fix the tortellini he had gotten the next night.

"Alright, I assume you want to talk…"

"Yes."

"About the DS protection?"

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you have to say?" Henry sat down lazily without picking up his fork. His lips were tightly pursed.

Elizabeth went ahead, trying to keep her tone friendly, "I would feel more comfortable if you took the protection. Not because I don't think you're capable of protecting yourself, but because the protection is for me. If you are ever threatened, I don't want to have to choose between keeping you safe and doing my job. You know the kind of people out there. They could kidnap you to coerce me. But you having a detail makes that a lot less likely."

"Elizabeth, I hear you. But I can handle it. I'm a marine. I managed to stay alive in war zones, and what we're talking about here is a lot less risky than a war zone."

"No, Henry. It's not!" She took a deep breath to calm herself. "There may not be risk of car bombs and fighter jets around every corner, but anyone could blend into a crowd and slip you a nerve agent in seconds."

Henry rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting. Nerve agent attacks don't happen anymore."

"Yeah, they do! Listen to me! Something bad could happen. I'm not kidding!"

"I'm not kidding, either." Henry's voice was dangerously calm. "I can handle it."

Henry felt more than slightly offended. What did he have to do to show that he didn't need to be babied? Elizabeth usually didn't make him feel smothered, but at that moment, he felt like he was still a high school kid in Pittsburgh trying to convince his parents that he _was_ good enough to go to college. They hadn't believed him, so he had had to prove it. Maybe that was what Elizabeth needed. If she couldn't see that there wasn't a reason to be concerned, he'd just have to show her that he didn't need protection. Eventually, she would realize he was right.

Elizabeth could see Henry getting that determined look on his face. She knew he wasn't going to take her seriously. That hurt. Particularly at that moment, though, she really wished Henry were just a little more perceptive. Could he not tell how nervous she was describing the worst-case scenario? She almost couldn't stomach the thought of him getting kidnapped... Before meeting Henry, there really hadn't been anyone she would have compromised foreign policy for. Even if Isabelle were kidnapped... Isabelle was her best friend, but they had both talked about how they knew the risk was very real, and they were prepared. They kept their focus on the mission.

But Henry... He didn't seem to understand what could happen. And he hadn't signed up to be in danger. Choosing to date her shouldn't make him also accept the risk of getting kidnapped... or worse.

Elizabeth could feel her chest tightening at the thought of losing Henry. She needed to get her mind on something else. Anything else.

Henry wanted a drink. But failing that, he needed to get away from Elizabeth when she was so argumentative. He got up, his meal barely touched. He wasn't very hungry. Elizabeth was supposed to be on his side. She was supposed to believe in him.

Seeing Henry leaving the table, Elizabeth had to fight to keep her panic from showing. "Henry, please... I'm really scared about this."

"I just need some space. Thanks for dinner."

Elizabeth sat, panicky and stunned. She knew Henry had probably meant to keep from hurting her feelings, but just walking away almost made it worse than if he had stayed and yelled at her. She didn't mind if he was angry as long as he was still there.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you, **thank you** , _thank you_ for all the amazing reviews and encouragement you've left me since I last posted! Every time I saw a comment posted, I was reminded to keep working on this, and it really made my day!

I have the next couple chapters nearly ready, so there should be at least a few more updates in the near future.

I can't say enough... thank you for still reading this story. It means so much.

For those of you looking forward to the Iraq reveal... right now that is scheduled for chapter 35. It's only a couple chapters ahead of where I've written so far. So get excited for that... as much as is appropriate for a really unhappy chapter...

Thank you for the support on making Elizabeth bi. I so wanted to let the cat out of the bag early on that one...

 **To answer questions:** Yes, Henry's family will have some airtime. Right now that's scheduled for... chapter 59. There are 74 chapters planned out right now.

Elizabeth's staff already knows she's dating Henry. They were spotted by reporters out on dates early on. But now everyone knows they're living together.

As for when they're gonna have sex. Penetrative sex is planned for chapter 68.

 **Misc personal updates:** My agency didn't opt to make me permanent this year, and I'm still waiting to hear if they're going to keep me after April 26th, so that's still up in the air. I'm hoping the FY19 budget will let them do more entry-level hiring next year. One of the reasons they didn't hire many folks this year was they weren't allowed to under a continuing resolution. But I did just renew my lease to stay in my apartment another year, so somehow I'm gonna make it work. The updates have been so slow because hahaha it's actually really hard to be in grad school full time, work a full time, and also have a weekend job. But I'm going to try to take a summer class so this fall isn't so hectic. But also I start thesis this fall... so... who knows.

I got to spend a day up at CIA HQ, and I'd love to be able to incorporate some of that into the story. So far, I haven't thought of any ways to use any of it. But that urban legend about the CIA starbucks not using names: confirmed.


	33. The hardest part is knowing I'll survive

Chapter 32: The hardest part is knowing I'll survive

* * *

 _Elizabeth felt herself wake up from a nightmare. She was comforted slightly by the familiar sight of her bedroom. She got up and looked in Henry's room. He wasn't there, so she began looking through the house. None of the lights were working, so she fumbled around in the dark shadows, calling for Henry._

 _"Henry! Where are you? Are you okay?"_

 _She heard moaning coming from the wall in the living room. When she got closer, she realized there was a door. She thought it was strange that she had never noticed the door before. Through the door was a room that looked very similar to Henry's old studio. There was a tiny table pushed up against the back of a small loveseat. When she looked beyond the loveseat, though, her heart stopped. Henry was lying on the floor, covered in vomit._

 _"No, Henry! Henry!"_

 _She heard his voice, but his body remained still, dead. "You didn't believe me. You weren't there for me. I couldn't breathe with you hovering over me. I needed a way out. You made me do this."_

 _Elizabeth felt herself break, falling to her knees. She had caused Henry to drink again..._

 _She sat up, awaking violently. Her dream felt so real. Had it been a dream? She wasn't sure. Was Henry alive? She checked her phone to see how long she had been asleep. She had been out for hours. It was nearly five in the morning. When she checked, Henry still wasn't in his room, and she cringed inwardly as she knew she had to go look for him. At least the lights worked. She reasoned that if the lights worked properly, she must have finally woken up for real._

 _Not finding Henry in the house, she went out to the back deck. The two trees that were normally in the backyard had grown into a forest. How had she never noticed a forest behind her house? Was this another dream?_

 _She made her way into the forest and then saw Henry run past her. Men holding hunting rifles were chasing him. As he was running, she saw a bullet pierce his ankle. Henry fell, and the men chasing him caught up to him. She raced forward and got in their way, trying to help Henry. She felt their bullets hit her in the back, but she didn't care. She picked up Henry and tried to rush him into the house. Halfway there, she realized that she couldn't keep running with the bullets in her back. She fell and Henry dropped to the ground. He had taken a bullet to the chest somehow, and Elizabeth realized that the bullet had passed straight through her body only to embed itself inside Henry. She hadn't been able to protect him._

 _"This is your fault. You deserve to die," Henry choked out from his position sprawled out and broken on the ground._

 _Elizabeth felt tears in her eyes as the life slowly left her body. Henry hated her. He blamed her. And he was right._

 _Seeing nothing but white light, Elizabeth assumed she must have finally died. Maybe that was for the best. She took a minute to breathe. Everything was over... It was almost peaceful. If death was just an eternal emptiness, that would be better than the constant pain she had been in. ...it would be better than constantly causing problems for everyone she loved._

 _Eventually, she adjusted to the intense, white light. It wasn't a white light at all. It was the sun over a rolling sand dune the color of wheat left in the field too long. There was a little grouping of beige tents, and a number of people going in and out of the structures._

 _Somehow, she knew where she was. She was in Afghanistan. And Henry must be down in that camp._

 _She wasn't sure what to do. Should she go to him? Would he listen? Would he even want to see her? Looking around, she thought again that the sun was absolutely blinding out in the desert. But looking closer, there was a smaller light heading straight for the camp._

 _Before she could react or cry out, the light hit the camp and exploded in a thick cloud of sand and debris._

 _Oh, shit._

 _"Henry!"_

 _She started running, but running through the sand was not like running on a paved trail. It was hard, and her legs didn't seem to move the way she wanted them to. She needed to get to Henry!_

 _It took forever, but she managed to get closer. She had made it to the edge of the small camp. There were people lying about, and many of them were injured. She knew she should try to help, but she couldn't think about that when she didn't know where Henry was. But wasn't it her job to help any American and not put Henry first?_

 _She didn't have time to think about that. But as she was passing people, she noticed that they didn't just have normal injuries. They were having seizures and vomiting. They all had blisters. Their skin looked blotchy… Something was wrong. Something besides just a bomb._

 _"Ma'am! You need to get out of here. This site is radioactive!" Someone shouted at her._

 _"I need to find Henry!"_

 _Just as she said it, she finally saw Henry. He was convulsing on the ground, clearly suffering the effects of acute radiation poisoning. Just as she got to him, his convulsions stopped and he lay still._

 _No._

 _He couldn't be dead._

 _"Henry! Wake up! Henry! ...please..."_

 _Just as she felt herself become overwhelmed by sobs, she saw his eye twitch just slightly, and she rushed to hold his head in her lap where she was kneeling on the golden sand. "Henry, baby. Talk to me! You can't die! I need you…" she cried._

 _Henry's voice was raspy, but it was fierce. "Elizabeth! Why didn't you warn me? If I knew this could happen, I never would have dated you!"_

 _"Henry, I tried to protect you!"_

 _"Oh, by insulting me? Good job protecting me!"_

 _Elizabeth felt Henry try to turn away from her, but his body was too weak. And that was her fault._

 _"Henry, there's no one else for me but you... Please don't die," she wheedled._

 _"I have to die because I can't live with you. You're not allowed to die, because I never want to see you again. Bye, bitch."_

 _Reeling from his words, she felt the swirling sand cloud everything out. Vaguely, she heard the sound of another incoming missile. She couldn't see, and eventually everything went black._

 _"_ _Elizabeth, wake up. No sleeping in today…"_

 _Was that her mother's voice? She cracked open her eyes and recognized her childhood bedroom. She was home. Home. Standing just a couple feet from her bed was her mother – just the way she remembered her._

 _Elizabeth jumped up. "Mom! I missed you so much!"_

 _Instantly, her mother's face twisted into a snarl. "Look! It's the slut!" She looked Elizabeth up and down._

 _Elizabeth realized that her blouse had slipped down in front, already being low cut, and her bra was showing. Her breasts seemed huge, two great globes of suggestive flesh. She couldn't speak, she was so embarrassed._

 _"You finally died, did you? Good!" Her mother pointed. "It's your fault I'm here. You put me here, and then you weren't even sorry. You didn't listen to me! You just sleep with anyone you want. I know about all those men!"_

 _Elizabeth was mortified. Her mother was angrier than she'd ever seen her. Elizabeth could feel the waves of disappointment. How could she explain? "Mom there was nothing I could do to help you... the only man I've slept with is Henry..."_

 _"The one you just killed? But there were others, weren't there?"_

 _"Mom, it wasn't like that... I didn't want that…"_

 _"You're a slut." Now her mother's voice had that same cold, even tone that Henry's had had earlier in the evening. Her mother was done with her. "You shouldn't have died because I don't want to have to see you for the rest of time."_

 _Her mother didn't want her. She was a slut. She didn't even deserve to die because she deserved to suffer for all the pain she had caused._

Elizabeth woke up, opening her eyes slowly, trying not to move. Was she actually awake now? She thought she might be. She could feel that the room was rather chilly, and that seemed new. Had she noticed what temperature the room was in her other dreams? It could still be another dream...

She remembered how angry she and Henry had been when they went to bed. Her mother always told her never to go to bed angry. Now, that seemed like the best advice she had ever heard. Somehow, she hoped she could just sleep off her feelings. She had cut, but no more than usual. The drink she had poured for Henry had been normal sized, and she felt it would be unfair if she cut more than normal. It hadn't been enough, but she had told herself that it had to be enough. She had tried to let the few, shallow cuts soothe her, but it hadn't worked.

She had been so upset with Henry. She had still been upset about the op-ed. People were saying she was a bad role model... that she wasn't fit to be around children... Of course, that offended her, but she was more offended that the implication seemed to attack her parents. She had spent most of her life trying to become someone her parents would be proud of...

Not that her parents would be proud of her now. She needed to cut again. She needed Henry... but she couldn't tell him that she wasn't okay. How could she tell him how much he meant to her? She was supposed to be independent and self-sufficient... It wasn't the first time she had been overwhelmed by how much Henry meant to her, but she thought she had gotten over it. Theoretically, she knew she could live alone again. She'd be fine... but her heart might be broken beyond repair. She probably wouldn't ever be able to love anyone again without comparing them to Henry.

Losing her parents felt like having her heart and future ripped away from her. And that's what it would be like if Henry were taken from her. She loved her parents with that childlike innocence that had been dashed away when they died. Her love for Henry was much more adult. She knew all of the things that could go wrong, but she still chose to love him because he made good days better and bad days worth living. He gave her something to look forward to. And he kept her from getting too caught up in herself. If he were gone, it would take a very long time for her to recover, and she would never be the same. She would always miss him.

Her razor blades were just as silver as they always were. The alcohol swab seemed to cool the burning energy on the surface of her skin. She gripped the blade and dragged it smoothly across her upper arm. The blood beaded up like it always did, but her skin still felt numb. She thought maybe she just needed to cut a bit deeper. Maybe doing two or three cuts at a time would help. She needed more pain to clear her mind. Her whole body and mind were numb. She wanted to feel something. Anything.

Logically, she knew she was shutting herself down so she wouldn't feel the pain of losing Henry. And even as she cut deeper, she knew it wouldn't help. She was scared she might never see Henry again... but he was in the next room. He was still there. He was not gone yet.

Looking at the blood running down her arm and beginning to drip, she realized she needed help bandaging herself up if she didn't want to make a huge mess. She held her towel to her arm and made her way to Henry's room. With a sense of déjà vu, she knocked on his door and called his name.

Henry heard Elizabeth call him and got up quickly. When he opened the door, he saw her clutching the stained white towel to her arm.

"Hey, come here. Sit down." Henry motioned to the bench at the end of his bed. He rubbed his hand along her back, hoping it would reassure her. "I need to run downstairs and get the first aid kit, okay? Will you be alright?" His mind was entirely focused on making sure Elizabeth was okay. Their disagreement could wait until she was ready. His priority was Elizabeth.

Elizabeth nodded. She wanted to grab onto him and refuse to let him from her sight, but she knew her cuts needed to be bandaged.

When Henry got back with the first aid kit, Elizabeth was staring at her hands, seemingly in her own little world. "Alright, babe. Let's see. We'll get you bandaged up."

He pulled out some disinfecting wipes and prepared a roll of gauze, kneeling in front of her. "I'm glad you came to get me."

"I'm glad you're here." It was a simple statement that she meant more than anything else in the world.

Henry didn't have more than a second to think on Elizabeth's words before he saw that her cuts were deeper than normal. He glanced up at his girlfriend's face, which was pointedly not looking at him. Focusing on the task at hand, he cleaned off the blood that had dripped down her arm, and he wrapped the area tightly in gauze and medical wrap.

There was a sinking feeling in Henry's stomach that he knew what had caused Elizabeth to be upset. Hadn't she said earlier that she was scared? And he had ignored her. Not that he meant to ignore her... He just needed some time to clear his head. But Elizabeth had actually needed him. And he hadn't listened.

"Babe, can you tell me what happened?" He spoke quietly, trying not to startle her.

Elizabeth still wasn't looking at him, but the obvious concern in his voice pulled the tears from her eyes.

"I had a nightmare... and I couldn't seem to wake up... I kept thinking I woke up, but then I was still in the nightmare. They were one after another. I just wanted to wake up…" Elizabeth knew she was rambling, not wanting to divulge the details of what actually happened.

Henry was still kneeling in front of her, and he tried unsuccessfully to catch her eye. "What happened in the nightmare, babe?"

"You got... you got shot… And I couldn't save you. And you were in a bomb... You were mad at me... And then you... you told me that you blamed me and you didn't want to see me..." She was having such a hard time telling Henry. She was so scared that he might actually feel like dream Henry had.

"I'm here. I want you here. I love you. You can tell me, babe. I won't be mad," Henry reassured quietly.

"I saw my mom… She was mad at me. She called me a slut." Elizabeth felt hot, embarrassed tears escaping from her eyes. "And you… I found you drunk and passed out… I think you were dead."

"Oh, baby. Come here..." He picked her up and sat down, rocking her slightly in his lap. "That's a really bad nightmare, baby. But none of that was real. You're safe. I'm safe. You're not a slut. Everything's going to be okay."

"You called me a bitch..."

"What? When?" Henry racked his brain for any time when he possibly could have called Elizabeth a bitch. It just wasn't a word he used. At least not since he was thirteen and had had his mouth washed out with soap by his very irate mother.

"In my dream..." Elizabeth rubbed her temples, "So it wasn't really _you_. It was me projecting onto you, I guess. It was a nightmare..."

"Babe, I would never call you that, and I have never thought it, either."

"I guess I know that. Although, I think it plenty when I'm in meetings, so I don't know how you don't even think it."

"You call world leaders bitches in your head?"

"All the time," she deadpanned, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the tearstains on her face.

Henry chuckled softly, "I guess I personally prefer the term asshat."

Elizabeth giggled. "Asshat?"

"Yep," Henry confirmed. "You get to think whatever you want. Especially if someone is rude to you. You may have to be nice to them, but you should acknowledge when people don't treat you well. You deserve better."

Elizabeth nuzzled into Henry chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, can you tell me what was going through your head when you did this?" Henry gestured to the now-bandaged cuts.

"I was just so numb. I didn't mean to cut bad... I just wanted to feel something. The thought of losing you... It hurts too much." She shuddered.

"Shhhh... You aren't going to lose me. I promise." He rubbed her back again.

She sniffed, trying to get herself together. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"It's okay." He reached over and pulled the knitted blanket from the foot of his bed. He kept it there because sometimes his feet got cold, but it was too scratchy to use as a normal blanket. He thought it might help Elizabeth focus. "Here, can you hold this. Try counting the stitches. Focus on how it feels."

Elizabeth thought Henry was being a little silly, but she took the blanket and counted the stitches. With his arms around her and her hands occupied, she was able to relax the tension she was holding. Giving her mind something to do, even as simple as counting, helped.

Henry could tell Elizabeth wasn't as tense as she had been when she had come in. "There you go, babe. You're safe. We're both safe. I'll do whatever it takes to stay with you. You don't need to worry about losing me for at least another twenty or thirty years. I promise I won't take any unnecessary risks."

Elizabeth soaked up his words, finally able to hear him without immediately reacting. Squeezing the rough yarn in her hands reminded her that she wasn't dreaming and that they were safe in Henry's room.

"I was really scared of losing you. Really scared," she whispered.

Henry smoothed back her hair, hoping he could do something that would make her feel better. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I should have been paying more attention."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Do you understand how big of a deal this is?"

"I do," he spoke seriously. "I'm sorry I didn't before."

"So you'll take the protection?" She almost didn't dare to hope.

Henry thought for a moment. "How about we ask for a threat assessment? And if it comes back that protection is warranted, I'll take it. But if there really isn't a threat, then we'll know there isn't anything to worry about. Will that be okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I can go for that. But in the meantime, I want you to take a bodyguard with you just in case."

"Deal," he agreed.

"Okay." Elizabeth nodded, telling herself the issue was settled. She wrapped her arms around Henry's neck and hugged him tightly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, babe." He returned her hug. "Thank you for coming to get me. I would have felt really terrible when I found out how upset you were. Thanks for knocking some sense into me. I promise I'll pay better attention to you when you tell me you're scared. You shouldn't have to cut to get me to listen to you."

"I didn't cut to get you to listen to me…"

"I know. That's just what it took for me to realize what a bonehead I was being. But I promise it won't come to that again."

They locked eyes and Henry's obvious sincerity helped Elizabeth trust his words. She felt another part of herself relax at the knowledge that Henry had _heard_ her.

"Thanks for helping me. I was so… I've never had that kind of dream before. I didn't like it."

"It sounds really awful. But I'm here. And I want to help." He rubbed her back in gentle circles.

"You do help." She leaned into his soothing touches. "Even the stupid blanket thing helped."

Henry laughed. "I think my great aunt knitted it, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was hideous."

"It's not hideous…" Elizabeth held up the offending blanket skeptically.

Curling his hands around her shoulders, he pressed small kisses to the side of her neck. "Look at it. It's peach and brown and yellow." He spoke as if the mere presence of that color combination made his point for him.

"It'd be fine without the yellow," Elizabeth analyzed, critically. "The yellow's really too green…"

"I know! It's just awful. But it _is_ warm…"

"You're warm…" Elizabeth cuddled closer. She was getting tired again.

"Thanks… I think." Henry kissed her cheek and held her securely. He realized he had missed being close to her since they had fought that evening. Normally, they might have even called each other for short conversations throughout the day. He hadn't realized how used to sharing everything with Elizabeth he was.

When Elizabeth started bobbing asleep and jolting herself awake, Henry carried her back to her room and tucked her into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Sleep well, babe. Come get me if you need anything. I promise I'll be there. I love you."

* * *

A/N: Again, I can't thank you enough for the amazing reviews. Really. I know I've been a little MIA, but I do read all the reviews, and they always make my day. My agency is supposedly holding interviews soon to decide if I'll have still have next month. So far, I haven't heard anything from human capital, but I still have hope! But while my real life is totally nuts and stressful, you guys are so wonderful and supportive! Thank you!

I know I didn't address much Henry stuff in this chapter, but that'll come up more in the next chapters.

I have a question for you. I'm thinking of adding an epilogue. Mostly because I have a chapter title I really want to use for the epilogue... But I don't know where I want to end the story. Do you all have thoughts? Do you want to see how they deal with end of life issues? How Elizabeth deals with doctors and caregivers seeing her scars? More stuff about them doing fluffy things in retirement? As always, if there's anything you want to see, or a particular topic you want addressed, please let me know!


	34. Whatever this world throws our way

Chapter 33: We'll take on whatever this world will throw our way

* * *

"Good morning, babe." Henry kissed Elizabeth as she came down the stairs in the morning. He could see the effects of her lack of sleep. "Coffee is in the pot."

He couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. Seeing her at his door the previous night, a towel clutched to her bleeding arm, had shocked him a little. Of course, he had seen her cuts before. He helped her bandage her cuts every night. But seeing her in his bedroom when he wasn't expecting it, when he was still half asleep… that had certainly woken him up in more ways than one.

Henry knew his girlfriend was a cutter. He knew her habit was dangerous. But sometimes it was easy to forget that the cutting could turn _really_ dangerous. The cutting could happen in the middle of the night when he had no idea. If something upset Elizabeth, something big…. She really might go too far.

He knew he couldn't stop her, and he trusted her to come to him. At least, he hoped he had reminded her that he did really want to be there for her. Even knowing that her cutting was mostly low-lethality and didn't pose any significant risk to her life, he still felt a very real pain that she was still cutting. Someone he loved was in pain – was actually endangering herself – and of course that hurt him.

If he tried to voice any of that, he knew it wouldn't go well. He didn't want to guilt Elizabeth into stopping. That wouldn't work. And they had already figured out that they couldn't get so tied up in the other's issues that they couldn't take care of themselves. If Henry defined his personal success by whether or not Elizabeth cut, he would burn himself out, and then Elizabeth would have to help him pick up the pieces. …Like she had before. She had covered for him at work when he had been in the hospital…

No. He wasn't going to become too codependent again. But it still hurt that Elizabeth was cutting. It was still very unsettling. It occurred to him that he should probably meet up with Isabelle again, if only to have someone to talk to about it. He didn't want to betray Elizabeth's confidence, but he needed someone to help him understand everything. Going to Elizabeth was out of the question. There was no way he could tell her how much she was hurting him because _she_ wasn't hurting him. The cutting was hurting them both.

"Thanks. Is that bacon?" She leaned over Henry's shoulder to peer into the frying pan.

"There's bacon, French toast, and fruit. You want a plate?"

"Please." She sat down at the table. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

"Just eat up and I'll get the message." He kissed her temple as he placed a plate full of breakfast in front of her. Henry took a lot of pride in being able to feed his beautiful girlfriend. It was so simple, but she was always grateful for the attention, and he loved seeing her face when she was really enjoying something he made.

After a few bites, Elizabeth felt more human, and she asked, "What do you have on your agenda for this morning?"

"Not much. Just briefing Congress... you know."

Elizabeth laughed, trying to swallow her bite of strawberry. "Well, just don't throw a table at the members... Did you hear about that?"

"Oh, the crazy woman throwing office furniture at Congress? I saw that. I feel like that woman and I have a lot in common..." He winked and sprinkled a little sugar on top of Elizabeth's fruit.

Elizabeth blushed slightly, realizing that Henry had been watching her close enough to notice that her fruit was a little tart. It was a heady feeling, having Henry's undivided attention. "Well just don't get caught..."

Henry settled in with his own plate of eggs, bacon, and fruit. "Speaking of... Can I ask a question?"

"Yeah, what is it?" She looked up, noticing Henry shift to a more serious tone of voice.

Not wanting to meet her eyes, Henry stayed focused on his breakfast. "How did you adjust to having protection? I mean, how much did it get in your way?" _How much did they watch you?_

Seeing Henry's tension, and finally understanding some of Henry's reticence, Elizabeth tried to reassure him. "It didn't really interfere with anything. Except for the weekly sweeps of the house, but we got on a schedule so they do it when I'm not home. Aside from that... It was really convenient to always have a driver. Sure, it feels extreme, but they do a good job of staying out of the way."

"It really wasn't a big adjustment?" Henry finally met her eyes. He hadn't wanted to ask Elizabeth all these questions because he didn't want her to think he was sneaking around behind her back, doing things without her knowledge. That wasn't it at all. They spent most of their time together, anyway. But having protection meant a loss of freedom. Henry had been fighting for his personal freedom as long as he could remember. The idea of someone looking over his shoulder, knowing exactly when he went to work and when he came home... When he went to the store and what he bought... Exactly how often he went to the gym or didn't... He had liked living alone because he didn't have to justify himself to anyone. He had this feeling that if anyone knew exactly what he did, they wouldn't approve. They would always think he wasn't good enough.

"You have to remember... I only went to work, the grocery store, and home... It wasn't like I had a lot going on..."

"Oh, right." Henry had forgotten how reclusive Elizabeth had been when he first met her. "I'm glad you get out and do more stuff now."

"Me, too."

They shared a grateful smile. Before they met, Henry had gone running some, but most of his time had been occupied with work or drinking. They had helped each other get out more. That was definitely an improvement.

"But they won't tell anyone what you do, and they don't judge. They're just there doing their jobs. The job is to keep you safe, not to keep you from living."

Henry wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't want to appear nervous. .

On the table, Elizabeth's phone buzzed. "Oh, that's Conrad. He wants to huddle in the Oval this morning. I need to run."

"Love you, babe. You want me to get you a cup of coffee for the road?"

"I got it. Thanks." Elizabeth landed a kiss on Henry as she took her plate to the sink and grabbed a travel mug from the cabinet. She nearly dropped the coffee pot when she went to pour the heavenly substance into her cup.

"You okay, babe?" Henry came through to the kitchen with his empty plate, having heard a clatter.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just having a fight with the coffee pot," she groused.

"Who's winning?" He held a hand to the small of her back, kissing her cheek.

She switched the coffee pot to the other hand. "After an early loss, I'd say I came back to win in the end." She triumphantly held up her full mug to Henry to prove it.

"I never doubted you for a minute." Henry winked. "Call me if you need anything. I'll fix tortellini tonight for dinner. Do you want pesto or alfredo?"

"Pesto." Elizabeth pecked him quickly. "Love you. See you tonight."

* * *

A week later, Henry was sitting in his office, sinking himself into a spreadsheet full of numbers. He had just had lunch with Isabelle, and on some level, he felt better for having gotten some of his feelings off his chest. Isabelle understood that it hurt him that Elizabeth was cutting. She sympathized that there was really no way for him to truly understand cutting. Isabelle had told him that she didn't think anyone who hadn't cut themselves could truly understand how it helped.

They still didn't have a solution. There _was_ no simple solution, and that was frustrating.

So he was throwing himself into a large dataset to help give some sort of order to his thoughts. It helped. He knew Elizabeth wasn't in danger of grievous injury on a daily basis. It would take something really overwhelming to make her lose control that much.

Henry thought she had had a pretty good week. She had, if anything, been cutting a little bit less. She spent a fair amount of time curled up in his lap every evening, but he thought that was a bonus. Snuggling with her calmed him, too.

He checked his clock. It was nearly time to head over to meet Elizabeth at the State Department. They had to meet with Director Fitzwallace again to go over the results of the threat assessment. When he left his office at the Pentagon, an unmarked car would carry him and his bodyguard, Gary, to meet Elizabeth. He'd ride home with Elizabeth and her detail.

Having Gary with him all week hadn't been that bad. They weren't even together that much. Mostly just getting him to and from work. It took a little extra planning if he wanted to get out for lunch or go running, but he didn't do that much, anyway. Gary didn't follow him around work, and once he and Elizabeth were home, the security stayed outside. It was easier to manage than he'd thought. Gary certainly didn't look down on him, and Elizabeth didn't, either. No one else really knew about the arrangement. Certainly no one at work needed to know.

Elizabeth had been really great about it, too. She had given him plenty of opportunities to talk and complain about it, but she hadn't made it a big deal. He appreciated her tact, though she was a professional diplomat.

He glanced at the clock again. It was time to meet Gary and figure out whether their arrangement would be permanent.

* * *

"Good to see you again, Director Fitzwallace." Henry held out his hand for the man to shake.

Stephen Fitzwallace shook Henry's hand and the three once again seated themselves around Elizabeth's desk. "Please, it's Stephen. I'm not into all the titles. My dad went by Fitz. He always said if a man needed a name to be respected, he wasn't worth the respect."

Henry nodded. "Your dad was a very respectable and wise man."

"Thank you." There was a momentary pause and then Stephen spoke again. "Now, about your threat assessment. I wish I had something more conclusive for you, but it came back right on the border of where I'd say security is necessary. There is a threat, but not an overwhelming one. When we see any traffic about you, it's when you're appearing together with Madam Secretary," Stephen nodded to his boss, "and since you've already got security when you're together, that doesn't concern me much."

"But there is a threat?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Mostly because of his position at DIA and the White House. Anyone seen coming in and out of the White House is at increased risk. And anyone working with assets and sources like Henry does at DIA can make security more volatile."

"But you're not prepared to say that I need a detail?" Henry clarified.

"No, sir. It's really up to you. Whatever will make both of you feel more comfortable. I've got enough cause to justify a security detail, but not enough to say one is required."

Henry and Elizabeth shared a look. Henry needed to make sure that Elizabeth wasn't too anxious. She seemed to be okay, so he turned back to Stephen.

"Would your numbers look different if I had some additional training in self-defense? Or if I started carrying a weapon?"

Stephen thought about it and nodded. "Yeah, that would change the numbers a fair amount. If you're willing to take the time to train like we do, there's really not much reason to assign you a personal detail. Most of the time, you're in secure buildings or with the Secretary."

"Elizabeth, what do you think about that?" Henry asked.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I think that could work. But this training - I want it to be an ongoing thing. I don't want a two-hour workshop. I need to be able to trust that you're really prepared."

"That works for me," Henry confirmed. He met Elizabeth's eyes, once again checking that she was okay.

"Henry, how about I put you in for our agents' workout twice a week and then eventually, we can probably move that to once a week and let you work out on your own the rest of the time."

"Sounds good."

Elizabeth began gathering her things. "Stephen, thanks for meeting with us again."

"It's my pleasure Madam Secretary. Have a good evening."

Elizabeth slid her arm into Henry's as they made their way outside to the car waiting for them. "Do we really get to go home before six pm?"

"I think so. What do you want to do?"

"I'll stick the laundry in if you make that popcorn..."

"Deal." He sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

Elizabeth stretched at the end of the movie. "You're right. I much prefer this one to the original."

"I mean, it's not like the original one was that awful... the music was always good."

Elizabeth nuzzled back into Henry's chest. "Yeah, but the original one... the beast was like 8 when he was cursed. And it seemed a lot less hostage-y in this one. The first one, she totally had Stockholm syndrome..."

"Why is this one any different? He still held her prisoner," Henry reasoned.

"Yeah, but he did do nice things, too. At least he tried. We saw that he just didn't know how to communicate. And when he let her go, he acknowledged that she had changed him, and he would always be better for it. It wasn't a big sacrificial act to let her go."

"I get that. He was almost triumphant when she left."

"Right. Because she wasn't the prize. The prize was their relationship and how it had helped him."

"As it should be." Henry kissed her forehead. She was still curled up in his arms, where she had been for the past couple hours, watching _Beauty and the Beast_.

Elizabeth sighed contentedly. "This was fun. What did you think of LeFou?"

"Totally tokenized. But before we get into all the details, can I change the subject for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure." Elizabeth tucked her head into Henry's neck, breathing him in.

"Are you going to be okay with me carrying a gun?"

Elizabeth peppered kisses along his jawline. "I mean... As long as you know how to accomplish the mission, I don't care what you're packing."

Henry growled, very reminiscent of the beast, and tickled her side, rubbing their cheeks together. He playfully nipped her earlobe and whispered, "I know you demanded the ongoing training because you like me all muscle-bound."

Blushing furiously, Elizabeth hid her face against Henry's chest. When she had herself under control, she looked up at him, the very image of confidence and flirtation. "Maybe I do... You wanna give me a demonstration of your muscles so I can make sure you're up to snuff?"

"You want muscles, huh?" Henry stood up with a fluid grace, holding her securely. Hearing Elizabeth's giggle, he took her upstairs and deposited her on her bed with the utmost care. "Tell me, dear queen, do my muscles meet the standards of her majesty?"

Elizabeth couldn't stop smiling. She loved Henry when he was being silly. "I don't know... Her majesty might need evidence of the finesse of those muscles. And she might also have a knot in her shoulder." She turned over, presenting her back to Henry.

"I'm happy to demonstrate my skills for such a fine lady." He began massaging her shoulders, indeed finding several knots. After a couple minutes, he tapped her lightly to get her attention.

"Hey, babe? Could I take your shirt off so I can use some oil on you?"

Elizabeth nodded and sat up, removing her shirt herself. Her arms were still bandaged, but her stomach was free of cuts. There were a lot of scars, but nothing recent.

Henry held a hand at the base of her neck and traced his other finger along the scars on her stomach. "These are looking much better. I'm so proud of you. I know it was hard, but this is some pretty clear improvement."

"You think so?" Elizabeth was serious now, vulnerable.

"Of course. You're so much more in control of your cutting than you were a few months ago." He gently stroked her face with the backs of his fingers.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said, blushing slightly. She wasn't sure she entirely believed Henry, but he seemed completely earnest.

"Can we take this off, too?" Henry gestured to the ...was it a bra...? that she was wearing. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen one that looked like it. Maybe it was some type of sports bra. It looked like a cross between a tube top and an Ace bandage. He made a mental note to Google what kind of bra it was later. _Not on his work computer._

"Oh, yeah." Elizabeth began unhooking the hooks and eyes that ran down the side of her minimizer. She felt like she could finally breathe properly. She finished her task and released a sigh as the garment fell away from her.

Henry opened the drawer on her bedside table to retrieve the bottle of lavender massage oil that he kept there for this purpose. "Alright, babe. Lie down for me. You want me to put on some music?"

"Maybe something quiet..."

"No problem." Henry tapped his phone and got it to play some quiet piano songs.

Elizabeth melted into his touch, loving how it felt to have his hands on her.

"Pressure alright?" Henry asked.

"It's perfect," Elizabeth said, breathily.

"Let me know if anything hurts or is too tender. You do have a lot of knots back here." Henry wondered if her weird bra had anything to do with the knots she had. Back massages were becoming pretty regular for them, but usually, Elizabeth took off her shirt in the bathroom, and he never saw her bra.

Elizabeth whimpered in pleasure. Henry was just perfect. Or at least his hands were perfect. The carnal pleasure of it was overwhelming in the best possible way. "You think the newspapers would call this immoral?" she joked.

"If this is immoral, I'm happy being immoral."

"Me, too."

Elizabeth really didn't care what anyone else thought about her relationship with Henry. He was so gentle. The way he focused on her and truly cared what she needed made her feel safe. She could relax because he would take care of her. She knew he wouldn't do anything against her will. She knew him better than anyone else, and that felt like an incredible privilege. He was dedicated, thoughtful, and smarter than anyone she knew.

Elizabeth knew Henry was strong, but she also knew he wouldn't hurt her. In fact, his physical strength was really kind of a turn on. Him being tough and badass felt exciting. She arched her body against his hands, getting a little worked up just thinking about it. And he'd be going through more physical training soon. She almost shuddered with the anticipation. Not that he didn't look amazing already.

"Hey there, tigress. You're enjoying this way too much. This is supposed to be relaxing."

Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, babe. But it's getting late, and I want you to be able to sleep."

The thought crossed Elizabeth's mind that she didn't really want Henry to leave her when it came time to sleep. Tonight wasn't the night, but soon... Soon. She would be ready. She wanted him to stay, but she needed time to make sure she was truly comfortable with the idea. It used to be a little intimidating that Henry was so strong, but now that she thought about it, she really liked it. _Really_ liked it. It still scared her to be alone with a man who could overpower her, but when it was Henry... she knew him well enough that she felt safer with him there. Not just because of his physical strength, but also because she knew his character was strong enough to take care of her. She could go to him and he would help – no matter if it was that she wanted to cut or that she needed him to get her tampons.

Later, when she was alone, she'd have to think about what it meant that his strength was such a turn on. Elizabeth knew she wasn't really ready to confront all that that implied... why a man capable of overpowering her made her shiver in anticipation.

With Henry's gentle hands soothing the muscles of her back, though, she couldn't bring herself to care about much of anything but how good she felt.

"To answer your question..." she began, continuing their previous conversation.

"What question?"

"About carrying a gun."

"Oh, right..."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and exhaled, enjoying the release she could feel in her muscles as she let out her breath. "It doesn't bother me. I trust you. It gets disassembled and locked up when you get home."

"Of course." That was something Henry had already planned on doing.

"And I want you tested with it every year. I never want it taken from you and used against you."

"That's standard for anyone carrying a gun in a professional capacity." Henry rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. He was a bit surprised she was taking it so well.

"I trust you." She rolled over, revealing her bare breasts to him. She pulled on his arm to get him to lean over and kiss her.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, I can't tell you how much your reviews mean to me! Really!

Personal note: Thank you so much for the positive thoughts! I interviewed yesterday to keep my same job for another four months. I feel pretty good about it. I'd probably get moved to work on a different report, but it would be my same job title. If I don't get that job, I've got a good shot at another four month extension to work with another unit within the same agency. That would be doing more secretarial stuff, but I'd get to work in the legal office, which would be great since I want to go to law school... after I finish my MA...

It may be awhile before I can update again. I don't have any more written up beyond chapter summaries. Finals are nearly upon us, and I need to finish all my projects at work before my last day. Even if I get the extension, I still need to close out all my current responsibilities. There will likely be about three weeks before the next temporary position would start, so that'll hopefully give me time to actually prepare for my finals. And I've still got my weekend job.

That's all to say it may take me a while... because then I'll need to onboard onto a new job, and I still may decide to take a summer class.

But I won't abandon the story! I maintain that A) I am determined to finish the damn story and B) if I do abandon the story, I will post all my chapter outlines. And my chapter outlines are about two pages each, so it'll tell you exactly what happened.

 **Review responses:**

The mention of Sarah and that summer internship... She didn't officially find an internship, but I thought up a plotline for that. So stay tuned. I haven't worked it into my outline, but I'll fit it in! It'll actually help me provide some context to an existing future plotline with Sarah.

I heard you on the retirement fluff, so I'll go with retirement fluff for the epilogue for the most part. Let me know if there are any fluffy things you want. I can confirm a dog will be involved. I'm basing the character of the dog off that story from a few months back about the police dog that flunked out because it liked hugs too much. And having a guide dog, I have plenty of ideas for wacky dog hijinks. Like the times my dog takes me to the store and made me buy her flowers. She likes flowers, and sometimes on our way home from the metro, she makes a detour to buy flowers and noses a bouquet until I pick it up, and then she takes me to the register. For the people who think service dogs aren't allowed to have personality... Exhibit A.

I'm not going to do any sort of afterlife thing, but I will have some resolution between Elizabeth and her parents. For the record, I'm an atheist. I flunked out of church, but fun fact - my first major in college was church music. I wanted to be ordained. And then I realized I couldn't keep quiet about being queer af. You know. So I ended up double majoring in Homeland Security and Gender/Sexuality. With a minor in History because I'm extra.

Iran! Yes! I will talk about Iran! For some reason, every time I read your previous questions about when Iran will be discussed, I replaced it in my head with Iraq. Iran is in chapter 39 right now. I'll probably actually need to add more discussion of Iran into my outline. I realized I really kinda glossed over it. So please let me know if there's anything you want to see about the storyline. I know as a fandom, we've kinda beat Iran to death, but if you've got a favorite thing to see, I'm happy to oblige. Or if there's something you don't think has been addressed before... Let me know. What's your favorite Iran trope?


	35. AN: Abandoning this thing

Hi everyone,

Thank you so much for your support of this story. I know some of you are still eagerly awaiting updates.

I never intended to abandon this story, but now I think I must. I promised that I would post my plot plans, and I will. It'll take a little bit of editing for the plot plans to be suitable for posting, but I will try to get that done. Again, between working 60 hours a week and being in grad school full time, it might not happen immediately. I'm quickly moving into thesis mode, and free time may become even harder to find.

My problem with continuing the story is that I planned for Henry and Elizabeth to get treatment and then be more or less okay. I researched a lot of therapeutic approaches for their conditions, and I thought that would prove to be an interesting exercise for me personally, and for the genre of cutting fics. And then real life happened, and I'm afraid I'm too disillusioned with the US mental healthcare system to write a story where they are able to find the treatment that they need.

In short, I wanted this to be a realistic - or at least more realistic - look at how it might look like to quit cutting. Of course, it was always idealistic and self-indulgent because it was based on having a rock-solid romantic relationship. It's not that I think quitting is impossible... I'm just not sure it's possible for everyone given societal limitations.

In time, I may find that I want to continue the story, but I don't think that'll be anytime in the next couple of years. If anyone wants to adopt the story - feel free. Take it in whole or in part.

Again, thank you for all of your kind comments, brainstorming, suggestions, betawork, pointing out of plot holes... All of it. The community is what makes fanfiction fun.


	36. In your arms, I feel safe

Chapter 34: In your arms I feel safe

A/N: This is still abandoned. I'm just going through and posting my rough chapter plot plans. This one had a tiny attempt at actually writing the chapter. When I started writing this chapter, I had the idea to make the racquetball OC's be some sort of marauders except I hate Peter and love Snape... so... No idea if those guys were going to become regulars or not.

Remember, the plot plans haven't been cleaned up (except for some stuff later where I'll just have to delete some stuff for copyright purposes). They're just meant to be notes to me, and things always change when chapters go from notes to written. I'm posting them so you know what was going to happen with the story. And if someone wants to adopt it, it's all yours. You can tell the difference between notes and drafts because notes are in present tense and then the actual writing is in past tense.

* * *

"Henry, I'd like to introduce you to the crew here. This is Jimmy, Syrus, Russ, and Seraiah," Stamford introduced.

The men all shook hands. Henry knew the four younger men were all part of a special forces unit. Apparently, Stamford had mentored Syrus when he had been younger. Henry could tell all of the guys were extremely fit, not that they had a choice given their job, really. When Henry got to Seraiah, he said, "that's not a name you hear too much."

Seraiah didn't smile. He smirked slightly and said, "It's Hebrew. It means-"

"Prince of the Lord," Henry finished.

"Correct," Seraiah aspirated the final t. It was possible the faintest hint of a smile crossed his face, and he inclined his head to the racquets at their feet. "Would you like first serve?"

Henry nodded, understanding that that was the most he was going to get in way of invitation from the other man.

* * *

Stamford helps Henry get all of his physical training in. They play a lot of racquetball and shooting. Another incident where Stamford forgets something, like racquets or something. Henry likes the extra physical training. It's a good way to relieve stress. Eventually, he starts getting training in close combat with knives. For some reason, he can't even get the images of slices up combat dummies out of his mind when he's done with those sessions.

As Henry is trying to scale back his drinking, he has more nightmares. It's clear that his drinking is a proxy, a security blanket. One of his nightmares is the scene where he has a knife against his throat in Bolivia. But then the image shifts to Elizabeth holding a knife to her own skin. He's still so traumatized by nearly getting killed by a knife that the idea of Elizabeth seeking refuge in cutting herself is extremely upsetting. He wakes up sweating and scared. Elizabeth hears him and goes to him and tries to comfort him and realizes how what she's doing truly affects him, too. They're all tied up together; no longer two completely separate people. Their lives are now intertwined, but not in a codependent way, hopefully.

Henry has a panic attack when he uses a knife offensively. Stamford calls Elizabeth to come pick Henry up. She talks about how even if he is mostly over it, his body remembers the trauma and fear he had in Bolivia. She holds him and kisses him and tells him he needs sleep. When he falls asleep, she goes back to her bed.

Address the issue that when she's having a bad night, she doesn't have any will to live, but she feels that she deserves to suffer.

At some point, Henry suggests they do away with their nightly ritual. Elizabeth asks Henry if it is going to be a problem for her to still occasionally drink. She doesn't want to upset him. She offers to stay sober with him, permanently. He says he'll think about. He's not sure. He knows part of him just needs the drink so he has something to hold at night so he doesn't feel so alone. Going to sleep is scary when he's worried he's going to have vicious nightmares. It feels so awkward to go to bed on his own without the signal of an empty glass or simply passing out.

Henry surprises her with a box of sensory toys. He says he wants her to have it in case it helps. He tells her he knows it won't solve everything, but that maybe it can help when it's only annoying, not overwhelming. Elizabeth is touched that he thought about it and wanted to help. She thinks the sensory toys do help some, but it occurs to her that they would only work if she wanted to use them. She doesn't tell Henry, but she knows part of her really doesn't want to quit because she still likes it. When she's feeling the toys, she notices some spots on her hands are kind of numb. She shakes it off as a part of getting old.

For one night, it works. They're both thrilled. The next night, Friday, is much harder. Elizabeth finally falls asleep. Henry can't help thinking about why he's never had a serious girlfriend before and he thinks he's a failure. He is about to get up to get a drink when Elizabeth has a nightmare and makes a bunch of noise in the next room. She panics, which distracts Henry. She has a flashback to a sexual assault during her time in Iraq. Henry calms her down by convincing her that the flashback isn't real, and he's not going to hurt her. She cuts, but not a lot. She voluntarily comes out to show Henry her cuts when she's done. He's waited up for her. He bandages the cuts and helps her back to bed.

When Elizabeth cuts, she lets herself feel comfort. She lets Henry hold her, but she doesn't feel him too much because the cutting has made her apathetic.

Henry holds her while she rides out her high. He just wishes she had let him help before the cutting.

He accidentally falls asleep beside her after she falls asleep. Elizabeth is so tired, broken down, and has shared so much with Henry, she just falls asleep without thinking about it. Henry doesn't feel at all like her attacker. His presence is calm and loving, not intimidating.


	37. I've seen my share of misery

Ch 35: I've seen my share of misery

The next morning, Saturday, she tells Henry the story.

When she was in Iraq as Station Chief, she was to interrogate a prisoner. Her physical protection had been drinking heavily the night before, and he stepped out of the room to be sick. (Elizabeth doesn't tell him that part up front). The prisoner pinned her against a wall and told her that pretty girls shouldn't be in that line of work. He pins her against the wall, scratching her enough to draw blood, and inserts a finger. The guy whispered that he would get her. It didn't matter where she went or if he were locked up, men would not allow her to think so highly of herself. She would always be a stupid woman who deserved and wanted to be fucked. An Army guy broke it up when he saw the security guy passed out on the ground outside, but she was so disgusted that she justified that that ideology was dangerous enough to deserve torture. She didn't want him on the loose to hurt other women.

Elizabeth blamed herself for the sexual assault because she felt like she should have been independent enough to prevent it. She wanted to make her parents proud by being successful. She was even more determined to show her parents that nothing could stop her. She had to prove that none of it hurt her, so she had to do everything.

She had to stay in Iraq and keep interrogating the prisoner, otherwise someone would have suspected.

Elizabeth did more fieldwork with the CIA because she couldn't bear staying in the US when she didn't have anyone to come home to. She couldn't even take the time to find someone because she couldn't bear to stay home. She didn't know what healthy relationships looked like. She used the sexual assault story to justify her signing off on some torture. She feels conflicted about that now. She understands why she did it and that she can't change it. But now she thinks that they didn't get any actionable intel from it, and it was wrong. She was wrong. That haunts her, too.

Henry really doesn't know what to say about her sexual assault. He is just bowled over. He holds her and kisses her and mutters no anytime she blames herself. But Henry says her torture report is still used to teach new employees about ethical conduct in the field. She says that's good because it got her transferred out of the department because people were so mad at her for writing it. Henry tells her it is an accomplishment, and she should be proud of herself.

She realizes he stayed sober because he was worried about her and he was more comforted by staying alert to her. She doesn't let him forget that victory. He went two days without a single drink.

That night, as he's going into the guest room, she tells him she'd like him to join her in bed. They cuddle. Henry rubs her back, and she thinks it's so nice because her back was sore from her minimizer.

Elizabeth doesn't say anything, but this is the first time she's chosen to fall asleep in front of a man. But it's not scary. She's just thinking about how different it is and how she thought it would be so much more stressful, but with Henry, it just feel natural. She feels like she knows him entirely. She trusts him not to hurt her, and she trusts him to take care of her.


	38. You deserve more than that

Ch 36: You deserve more than that

Compensation talk. Henry is low-key devastated about how to make it up to Elizabeth for all the stuff she went through in Iran and Iraq and her parents. She feels the same way about his childhood and stuff in Bolivia. They want to make each other whole, but they can't. Elizabeth tells Henry that all she wants from him is his love. Henry doesn't think that's enough to make up for everything she went through, but she says it's just going to take time to make her trust again. Trust her safety. Trust Henry.

Henry is really angry at her protection for leaving her alone. He wants that guy to be disciplined within an inch of his life. He asks her what was going on with that.

Elizabeth explains the guy was drunk and left to be sick, where he passed out.

Henry recognizes that his drinking makes her feel unsafe in some ways.

Henry still wants the people who hurt her to pay for what they did. He wants corrective justice. But Elizabeth convinces him that there's nothing those people could do to make her feel better. The only thing that can make her feel better is love. Eventually, they decide that accepting each other's love is pretty powerful. Being able to give love is pretty powerful. Love means understanding and valuing each other and being there when they're scared. They accept that that's enough compensation. There isn't anything bigger that could be given.

That night, they watch a movie and then get ready for bed. Elizabeth is nervous about sleeping by herself after their conversation that day. She hesitates at the bottom of the stairs and Henry asks her what's wrong. She asks him if he'd sleep with her. He says of course.

While they're in bed, she tells him that before the last couple nights, she's never been able to fall asleep in front of people, especially men. She wants him to know how much better she feels. Henry feels hurt that he thought she was already comfortable sleeping in front of him. She says there are still things that hurt too much to say… It's not all going to get fixed in one night. Henry holds her close and realizes that he's never going to be able to catch everything, it isn't his job, and it wouldn't be good for Elizabeth if he pushed her to do everything at once, either. It humbles him a bit and makes him realizes they have a lot of work to do if they're going to work everything out.

They decide to take a weekend trip up to Ocean City because they both need a break. It's a little early in the season, so it's a tad chilly, but Elizabeth loves it. Henry had been a few times before, but he wasn't used to how quick the trip was in Elizabeth's motorcade. When they make the reservation, Henry starts to book two beds, but then Elizabeth tells him to book one. As they're cuddling that night, she tells him she'd like to make their sleeping arrangement permanent.

Henry gets the idea to put a policy in place to ensure that it happens to no one else. He wants her story to have meaning. He doesn't tell Elizabeth.


	39. I walked a long road alone

Ch 37: I walked a long road alone

Sarah got a Hill internship, and bussed tables at night, sharing a room with a friend from college. But the member hit on her, so she enlisted, because without a positive recommendation from her first internship, she had a really hard time finding another one.

Sarah goes to Henry when she's having trouble with the member because Henry had helped her land the internship.

Sarah doesn't tell Henry why she's having issues with the member, just that she doesn't think DC is for her. She asks about rotc. Henry has a feeling that something else is going on, but he doesn't want to insert himself into her life. He agrees that DC isn't for everyone.

Henry never turns Elizabeth down when she needs a hug, kiss, or cuddle because when she was a teenager, she didn't get any of that. It's his way of making it up to her. No matter how mad he is or how worried he is about his own stuff, he's not going to leave her hanging. When Elizabeth realizes what's going on, she starts to cry. She says he's exactly the kind of man she was always looking for. Henry jokes that he didn't really think she was looking for anyone when he met her.

Elizabeth says she always wanted to get married, even if it wasn't her top priority. It was always something. It was always in the back of her mind. Henry gives her a funny look and says that was exactly how it was for him. He just didn't think it would ever happen for him. Elizabeth says she felt the same.

Elizabeth says she also felt it was stupid and juvenile to desperately want a partner. But she did. She wanted it. Henry hugs her tight. He says it wasn't stupid. But he felt the same way. Wanting a partner isn't bad. If anything, it tells him that she really loves him. She knew when she was alone that she wanted him there, even if she didn't know him yet. That makes her more invested in their relationship.

Henry says it wasn't just random that they met that day. They were both looking for something, and they found it in each other.


End file.
